Prussia, Nordics, and Magic What Can Go Wrong?
by Felynx
Summary: The Personification of England had stated clearly that he needed to go to Hogwarts to protect The Boy Who Lived. But when he conveniently decides to go missing - along with the rest of the G8 - a certain dissolved nation decides to take matters into his own hands. Armed with potatoes and zip-lock baggies of beer, Prussia drags the Nordics along with him to find spells and shit.
1. Chapter 1

**Oh fuck this chapter suuucccckssss  
**

 **I swear, even if I'm not a good writer, this story gets better overtime. I think.**

 **I might have to rewrite these first few chapters someday.**

"What do you mean, they're gone?"

Gasps and murmurs filled the large room that held the emergency meeting. The remaining nations around the table began to exchange nervous glances, whispering, whimpering. It was very predictable, for the eight greatest nations in the world are missing, as it seems. It was quite frightening to think that they would disappear into thin air, just like that, without a trace, and they may or may not be in grave danger. They could do nothing but helplessly hope that someone would do something.

Finland lay a shivering hand on Sweden's, squeezing tight. Even those usually emotionless eyes seem to have, ever so slightly, been tinged with worry. The Swede turned to look at him, and his expression hardened. They were both speechless, not one of them knew what to do in a situation like. Beside them, they could see Denmark petting a certain Prussian's back as mumbles about 'West' came out from his mouth.

"Now." A shaken Scotland, who had evidently fought from showing a hint of concern to keep what pride he had left, cleared his throat. "We," he gestured to Wales, Ireland, and Northern Ireland, "have done a thorough check. The G8 have not been seen since the last meeting."

"And," Scotland continued, "We need some volunteers to help us search for them." Almost immediately, every single nations' hands shot up in sync. They were all ready to do anything to bring back the missing nations, no matter how bad their relationships were. The strongest forces that they knew can't just disappear like that without anyone wondering if the same would happen to them.

Scotland held up a hand to keep the silence even before someone opened their mouth. To Finland's annoyance, the British nation took his sweet time to pull his cigarette out of his mouth and blew a puff of smoke. Those who sat next to Scotland let out a cough as the horrible smell entered their noses. Finland spotted Norway crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at the British nation.

"However. We cannot let everyone help."

"And why is that?" A very pissed Prussia stood up abruptly, his chair toppling down behind him. Finland winced when his sensitive ears picked up the sound that came from the table as Prussia banged a fist on it.

Scotland shot Prussia a glare that told him to sit the fuck down, but the albino wasn't affected by it, and instead, rolled his blood red eyes.

"Because we still don't know what happened to them, only a few should try to find them. We still don't know if whatever they went through would affect is too. We can't put everyone in danger. We'll only need a few brave volunteers" Scotland sighed.

"And if something happens to the ones who aren't helping?" A certain axe-wielding blond spoke up. "What if – even now we're all in danger, and we don't know it? What will sitting around help with anything?"

"I was about to talk about that, Denmark." Scotland frowned. "As I was saying, I would advise those who aren't going to volunteer keep your eyes and ears open. And please, try keeping low, and lock all the windows and doors in your house. God knows what is lurking in the shadows."

"Okay. Let me get this straight." Romano grumbled, massaging his temple. "We don't know what happened to them, and you're telling us that only a few of us can do something about it because…you, of all nations, care about our safety?"

"Well, as much as I hate all of you, I don't think I'd be able to live without allies and trading, so yes, that's what I'm saying." Scotland huffed. "Anyways…who wants to help?"

There was a brief moment of silence as all the countries in the room thought about what Scotland just said. And one by one, a few hands were raised. The first two were Prussia, who missed his dear brother, followed by Denmark. Finland wanted the Nordics to stick together, so he, too, volunteered, which led to Sweden's hand shooting up as well. Norway thought of England, and he decided that if he was going to tag along with the rest of the Nordics then his precious brother Iceland might as well come with them.

Iceland shrugged. He was fine with it. After all, Russia had been helping him with his financial problems lately, so...

Romano took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. He can't do nothing when his brother is possibly in danger. As much as Romano wanted to be considered as 'Italy' and as important as his brother, he can't let the Northern part perish. He raised his hand just a bit, while Spain smiled and waved his arms in the air wildly.

Scotland glanced around the room to see if there were any more people. Some looked uncertain, and some were about to lift up their hands when Scotland announced, "This is all. I will not put any more lives in danger. All of you except the ones that volunteered and the other British nations may leave."

Ireland raised a hand to protest.

"All of you except the ones that volunteer, the British nations, and Ireland may leave." Scotland rolled his eyes.

There was a long twenty seconds of horrible screeching and scraping noises as everyone stood up and moved their chairs at the same time. Sweden cringed at the sound of squeaky metal legs combined with the rough wood of antique furniture rubbing against the tile floor. After this problem was resolved, he should really help Scotland get some new chairs...

"Alright." Scotland sat back down on his seat, and the nations that were still in the room moved closer to him. Scotland eyed the last nation - Greece - as he closed the door behind him. Scotland cleared his throat once more, and gestured to Wales, who blinked and hurriedly pulled out some papers from a leather bag. Some of them seemed to be official documents while others were bits and pieces of newspapers. Scotland thanked Wales under his breath and lay the papers around the table as the nations gathered closer to see them properly.

"Okay. Let's see...where do I start?" Scotland scratched his head and pointed to a signed document. "Some days ago, England had an agreement with a wizard-"

"Wait, what?" Denmark interrupted. Not long after that he felt Norway's hand smacking his head. The Dane pouted, rubbing his head, but kept his mouth shut.

"Anyways. The wizard's name is Dumbledore. He recently asked England to help him look after this kid named Harry Potter. You see, there have been rumors that an evil wizard is rising, and England needed to keep Potter safe, for the boy is the future of the country." Before Denmark can interrupt again and ask why, Scotland added "I'll explain why later."

"The chosen one who is needed to be protected by a powerful person in order to fulfill the prophecy cliche, Denmark. Don't think much of the supposedly 'plot' of this story." Prussia interjected. He was given weird looks, but was otherwise ignored.

"As of now, the place that this kid is staying is a magic school called 'Hogwarts.' And since England isn't here, I will have some of you attend that school in England's place." Scotland held up a finger before Denmark can say anything again. "Of course, if you fail, then England will be doomed. He probably already is...but we don't want him to be in more danger than he already is. 'If that is even possible. But that is not the only reason why I'm sending you to school, don't worry." But Prussia wrinkled his nose at the thought of going to school anyway.

"I would also like you guys to find a way to somehow locate the nations."

"Oh, I think I can manage that." Norway blinked. He was so worried at first, but a simple locating spell is easy.

"Oh, Romania and I have already tried that. Didn't work." Scotland sighed, reading his mind. Norway narrowed his eyes.

"I will do some further research with Romania and some other magic countries. But for now, Norway, I don't think a locating spell can help. But England has the most magic out of all of us, and this school is the best in England. I have no doubt that if you spend some time in the library, you may find something. We're going in blind here. Even I don't know Let's just hope that luck comes in the form of a book." Scotland explained. Norway frowned. These guys really had no idea what they were doing.

"No, they don't have any idea of what they're doing." Prussia butted in with his awesome mind reading powers.

"Who the hell are you talking to?" Scotland raised an eyebrow. The albino shrugged.

"After this meeting is done, I think I can help carry Prussia to a doctor." Iceland offered. Mr. Puffin, perched on his shoulder, began laughing maniacally and attempted (and failed) to high-five Iceland. Prussia's ears turned bright red, but the fallen nation, for the first time in...forever, kept silent. He was indeed worried, especially for West - and joking about wasn't going to help anything. He solemnly motioned for Scotland to continue. The redhead nodded.

"Norway. Since you already know magic, I'll be sending you in there as a teacher. There's no point in making you a student anyways." Hearing that, Norway let out a sound that resembled a sigh, except it was very short and barely audible. He still had the same expression he always has, but if one squinted they could see the tiny, tiny hint of complete and utter relief in his eyes.

The other nations stared at him. Norway sat perfectly still and rigid on his chair with his arms crossed. After a few seconds (though it felt like eternity) of awkward silence, Denmark suddenly bursts out laughing like a maniac, clutching his stomach and rolling on the floor.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! NORWAY?A TEACHER? YOU'LL SCARE ALL THE STUDENTS OUT OF THEIR MINDS!"

Scotland sighed as he shuffled his papers and files as Norway strangled a certain Dane.

"The rest of you will have to go as students." Scotland continued, ignoring the dying noises coming from Denmark. Said person made a gagging sound and Prussia just smirked.

"The Awesome Me looks like a full-grown man, Scotland. There's no way-"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I forgot to mention that de-aging exists now." It was Scotland's turn to smirk as Prussia's face began to twitch in horror at the realization.

"NUUUUUUUUUH!" Prussia fell to his knees and shouted to the heavens. Everyone in the room rolled their eyes, impatient to continue. Scotland went right back to business. After briefly explaining the deal with Voldemort and stuff, he gave them their 'assignments'.

"Dumbledore and England have been friends for a long time but the old bloke still doesn't know about us personified nations. And I would like to keep it that way. So you guys will have to learn a magic spell strong enough to track the G8 without being noticed. Now, Dumbledore is a very smart wizard, so I would assume that will be hard."

"Challenge accepted." Denmark grinned.

"Fine. Then Denmark, Norway, and Iceland will go while the others-"

"W-wait, Mr. Scotland? Us Nordics want to stick together."Finland exclaimed. "Right, guys?" He received nods and a quiet 'yes' from the rest of the Nordic family.

"Fine. Then the Nordics will go and Prussia, Spain, and Romano will-"

"WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT THE AWESOME ME WANTS TO GO TOO!" Prussia, despite the situation, did not want to be left behind on an awesome mission to a magic freaking school!

"One Denmark is already enough..." Iceland grumbled, with Norway nodding in agreement.

"And too many of you can't be in one place at once. We already established that we will not want to be responsible if you guys go missing too." Scotland shook his head.

Prussia crossed his arms and pouted like a little kid. "B-but I'm dead anyway! I doesn't matter!"

"Yes, but the others aren't dead, and you can get them in danger!"

There were a few moments of awkward silence as Prussia and Scotland had a staring - er, glaring - contest. Scotland was the first to blink, and Prussia yelp triumphantly. Scotland just facepalmed, and swore under his breath. "Fine. You can go."

"YAAAAAAAAAY!" Prussia yelled into the heavens, and he did his victory dance, which looked very similar to Italy's Satanic dance. Prussia, being the fourth wall-breaking character, can see each of the Hetalia endings, and is probably copying the dancing. But he stopped.

"Wait...can I be the leader?"

"Go ahead." Scotland rolled his eyes. Prussia grinned and continued dancing. Sweden, being the responsible husband he is, made sure to cover Finland's eyes to prevent the smol cinnamon roll from seeing this disturbing sight of Prussia's dance.

"Anyways! I have told you what to do and who you'll go with, now leave, ya wankers. Meet me tomorrow, and we'll get you guys some supplies and shit. I need to talk to Spain and Romano about their mission." Scotland shooed Prussia and the Nordics out the door, but not before whispering in Norway's ear about who he wants the _real_ leader to be. Prussia just wasn't going to do.

"Oh, and Norway. We'll be paying Dumbledore a visit today to clear things out. 4pm, my time, don't miss it." Norway gave the Englishman a small nod, and closed the door behind him.

* * *

This...was very strange.

Dumbledore rested his chin on his hands. Two men sat across from him, one with fiery red hair and a muggle cigarette, and another with blond hair and a dull expression. The latter was what Dumbledore found quite...peculiar, to say the least. Besides that...odd strand of curled hair that seem to be floating near his head instead of on it, the man possessed a strange...aura, similar to Arthur and the other man who called himself Scott. However, Arthur and 'Scott' felt somehow normal. Yes, it was weird since it felt like he and this Scott person had already met, but 'Lukas' was strange beyond that. He felt...off. As if he didn't belong here. And it probably wasn't the fact that he's not British.

Clearing his throat, Dumbledore sat up a bit straighter and gazed at Scott. "So Arthur is busy, you say?"

"Yes."

"And...Lukas...will be taking his position?"

"Correct."

"Hmm." Dumbledore let his eyes travel from the Brit to Lukas. His dark blue eyes were incredibly dull and empty, but Dumbledore wasn't a fool. A closer observation showed that those eyes held many secrets and emotions. And despite the young appearance of the man, who looked to be around twenty or so, his eyes showed an old person with many past experiences. But Dumbledore didn't question it any further.

"Alright. I will clear this with the Ministry. Are there any more questions?"

"Yes, actually." Lukas spoke up. "Is it OK if my younger brother and his friends entered the school as students?"

"I don't see why not. We do have some extra room. I would need their profiles, though."

At the sound of that, Scott quickly reached into his bag and retrieved a folder with the information. "Take this, sir."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. They brought the files as if they knew the kids will be accepted - they were ready for this, it seems. Dumbledore accepted the papers and shuffled them.

"Oh, by the way, before you leave. I'd like to ask one more question."

"Yes?"

"If you don't mind, can you tell me what Arthur is busy with, and when he'll be available? I'd like to have a cup of tea with him sometimes. We haven't seen each other for a long time, you know. I wonder if he still looks the same. That man never seems to age."

Scott froze. Dumbledore noticed that his posture became more rigid, and his eyes hardened, but he faked a smile. Dumbledore didn't expect a reaction like this.

"Oh, well, you see, it's classified information, sir. And as for when he'll be free, we do not know yet."

"Ah, I see." Dumbledore decided not to press further, seeing that even Lukas had frowned slightly. Oh well. It wasn't his business anyway, and he will respect their boundaries.

A low grunt sounded from the hallway, and the door began shaking a little.

"Oh." Lukas turned to stare at it. "I think that was my troll poking the door. He can be a bit impatient, so I think it would be wise to leave now, before he gets angry."

"Ah, OK. Have a nice day. It was nice to meet you, Professor Bondevik."

"Just Lukas is fine." A very, very small hint of a smile formed on his lips, but it quickly disappeared when the door shook again, a bit more violently.

"I'm coming!" The man grumbled, and rushed over to calm the troll down., Scott shot Dumbledore an apologetic glance and muttered a thank you before leaving the room himself, the door closing behind him.

"Troll? Dumbledore, do you think it's OK to let these guys into the school?" A woman from one of the many paintings on his walls eyed the door skeptically.

"I believe so. After all, I trust Arthur." Dumbledore smiled. But the woman was right. A troll?

Interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**(Rewritten Chapter)**

The ancient room was dark and musty, dust clinging onto every corner, a magic circle painted in the direct center of the room. The only light was coming from a wooden door that looked close to collapsing. A red-haired man with a cigar in his mouth stepped in, his long cloak sweeping the dust on the floor. Behind him, six other people walked behind him, one with an aura that could rival the darkness of the room. The bounce in the step of a spiky-haired one suggests of too much sugar consumption, while the one guy in the group looked like he washed his hair with white paint.

"Close the door." Scotland instructed. Finland did so and had to wipe out the dust bunnies on his pants. "Wow, seems like no one has been here for a while."

Scotland tapped his chin. "Hmm...how many centuries has it been?"

Prussia let out a gigantic sneeze and wipe his nose with his gloves. "The Awesome Me does not deserve this. Is it really necessary you de-age us?"

"Yes, unless you want to be made fun of for being the oldest person in school who still doesn't know how to hold a wand." The albino snorted at the comment.

"Let's just get this over with, I'm hungry."

"Denmark, you're always hungry."

"Mm."

"Just get on with it." Norway seemed (and probably is) annoyed.

"Alright." Scotland cleared his throat. "You all step in the circle," he gestured at the magic circle in the middle of the room. "And I will chant a spell to make y'all teeny little children again."

Norway smirked, if it is even possible. The nations all huddled around in the circle, making sure that their entire body fit in it because no one would want to risk having their body get small only to realize their arms are still the same. It was a tight fit, but they managed. Scotland flipped open his-or was it England's?- booklet to the desired page and began chanting. A faint light came from the circle, but as Scotland continued chanting in a low voice, the circle grew brighter and brighter until Finland had to shield his eyes so he won't go blind. The longer he stayed in the circle, the stranger he felt. Pain seeped through his entire body like an electric jolt. It hurt so much that he could hear Prussia screaming next to him, and Finland couldn't hold his voice in any longer. It was pure _torture,_ like he was being burnt alive. He felt his limbs shrinking one by one, but it hurt too much to open his eyes. _Lord, when will this end?_

Finland didn't know how long it took. All he could remember is his body feeling numb, ears ringing, head throbbing for what felt like forever. It all came to an end, though, and he is never more relieved. He gasped for air, trying to catch his breath and breathe properly, no matter how itchy his throat felt. He just needed a cup of water and he could sleep forever. Thank _God_ it was over. He collapsed on the ground, and his vision became black.

* * *

The journey to Diagon Alley was more or less...a disaster. Denmark was still coughing like crazy, and Prussia is no where to be seen. The floo powder had probably taken him somewhere else. Determined not to waste time, even if Prussia was missing (not like he cared about the self-absorbed albino anyways) Scotland tried to organize everything.

"Okay, so Finland and Sweden, you two try to find Prussia; there's a chance he's around here somewhere. Also, get the books too. Here's the list. Denmark and Iceland," Iceland looked like he was going to kill himself when he heard that he had to be pared up with the energetic monkey man who is Denmark. "You two take care of the uniforms." Denmark groaned. Scotland shot him a glare. "I'll go get the other equipment for you. Meet me back here at eleven so we can go get wands and a pet." At the mention of pets, Mr. Puffin started pleading Iceland not to replace him, that he is waaaaaay better than any pet Iceland would ever be able to get, blah blah blah. Iceland ignored him and told Scotland he wanted an owl.

"Here's some money." Scotland handed them a pouch filled with galleons. "Have fun," he smirked. "Kids."

...

The path is filled with hustling, bustling people chatting as they got to one destination to the next. Denmark had to push pass all those people to catch up with Iceland, who weaved between the wizards and witches, of course, with the help of Mr. Puffin, who shouted at everyone to get the hell out of the way, earning Iceland stares. The Dane was so focused on getting pass all these people that he didn't realize that Iceland had stopped, causing him to bump into Iceland, which caused both of them to kind of stumble, trying not to fall down, which caused the dang puffin to lose his grip on Iceland's shirt, which caused him to drop on the ground. And that is how both of them ended up lying on the ground with an angry puffin cursing (the non-magical kind) at them, and a lot of people crowding around them asking if they were okay. A blush formed on Denmark's face as he grabbed hold of Iceland's shirt and raced into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions (Which, he found out later, is why Iceland stopped walking in the first place) while trying to avoid the looks of curious spectators, leaving a very pissed Mr. Puffin behind in the horde.

"Hogwarts, dears?" A lady greeted them the second they stepped in the shop. "Just a minute, I'm almost done with these two." She pinned a cloak on a boy, about eleven or so, with black hair and glasses. Next to him was this other guy who looked about the same age, with blond hair. They seemed to be in a conversation, but the dark-haired dude looked miffed. Denmark, with his extraordinary hearing powers ('cuz he's a nation, duh) could hear them talking wands and houses. Nothing too interesting. But then the blond kid nodded at the front window and Denmark turned around to come face-to-face with a giant. There's no way this guy could possibly be human; he's twice the size of a normal one. Denmark was strongly reminded of a certain very creepy Russian...of course less scary though...

Denmark heard the blond boy say something rude to the man, and the black-haired one was visibly getting upset trying to defend the giant dubbed "Hagrid." After some more questions from the blond boy, the one with glasses looked relieved to finally get away from him. "Well, see you at Hogwarts, I suppose." the blond one said as the other boy hopped of the footstool he was on. But as he walked briskly to the door, Denmark caught sight of something unusual on his forehead. It looked like some sort of scar...

A realization hit him when he realized it was shaped like a lightning bolt. Dark hair, glasses, lightning scar. Could it be...?

He turned to Iceland to ask questions, but apparently Iceland also noticed it, because he gaped at the boy until he was well out of the shop.

"Could you please stand on the stool?" Denmark snapped out of his trance and turned to the woman. "Um...we have to buy stuff for our friends too. Here are the measurements." He looked around in all of his pockets but found nothing. "Erm..."

"Here." Iceland handed the lady a piece of paper with the measurements. Then, to Denmark, "You dropped it when we fell."

"Oh." Denmark scratched his head.

"You may sit down while waiting. It won't take long." Madam Malkin gestured to a couple of stools in the corner of the room and went to the back of the shop quietly humming to herself as she worked. Iceland and Denmark took their seats and started to discuss what they had just seen. "He matches Scotland's definition perfectly. It has to be him." Denmark whispered, or whatever came as close to a whisper because he is, well, Denmark. Iceland nodded in agreement, and they sat quietly waiting for their robes after that.

As soon as they paid and left the shop, Denmark started whining about being hungry, to Iceland's irritation. He had no choice but to buy the Dane ice-cream so he would shut up.

...

 _"The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble." Finland finished reading from the list.

"Anything else?"

"Berwald, do you want anything else?" Finland turned to his companion, who who looked at him.

"No." His face suddenly became ten times as terrifying as usual, with an (almost) visible dark aura, and his voice sounded slightly deeper. Finland let out a high-pitched squeak and turned away.

"N-no, s-sir." Finland was quivering.

As the two walked out the shop, something caught Finland's eye. He stopped and pointed at some books on the shelf.

"Gillbert and Mathias would love those." The books were about bewitching and cursing your friends. Good prank/blackmail material, according to Prussia. "Better no let those two anywhere near this, or else our lives will be worse than before."

"Mm." Sweden nodded.

"Well, thank you! See you again!" Finland cheerfully waved to the baffled shopkeeper, who was thinking about how the hell the kid came from really really scared of the other guy into best friends again. Kids these days. They're so weird.

"Okay, all we need to do now is to find Gillbert, then meet up with the others." Finland stated as he put the last book in his bottomless bag. "Now where do you think he'll be?"

"Don't know." Sweden's expression as stoic as ever.

"Hmm. And he's not such a predictable guy..."

They were interrupted by an announcement, or rather shout from somewhere. "Has anyone seen mein awesome friends? Five of them, all blond hair...come on, you should have seen them by now!" The voice is unmistakably Prussia's.

"Well, looks like we won't have to look any further..." Finland mumbled as Prussia continued shouting into the crowd of people about how fucking awesome he is. They pushed their way pass the people and into the clearing that Prussia had created by drawing a line on the ground because "This is the awesomeness line and anyone without the same level of awesomeness as the awesome me is not allowed. Kesesesesesesesesesesesesesesesese!"

"Gillbert!" Finland called over the group of noisy people. "Over here!"

Prussia stopped his laughing and looked down to see his friends. "Kesesesesese! Found you! Where have you guys been?"

Finland was about to say that _they_ were the ones trying to find him, and _he_ was the one who got lost, but Prussia grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him off, with Sweden walking behind giving Prussia a death glare that says, "Touch my wife and you're dead." Prussia doesn't seem to notice.

"O-okay now, Gillbert. Let's m-meet up with t-the others..."

...

"Is everyone here?"

"I think so."

"Good."

"Hey!" Denmark jumped like the hyper puppy he is.

"What do you want, Mathias?" Knowing Denmark, probably something stupid.

"Can we get some food?"

Of course he's thinking about food, of all things.

"It's only eleven, Mathias..." As if Finland could convince him not to eat.

"But I'm HUUUUUUUUUUUNGARY!

"Alrighty." Scotland growled before the two could make anything worse. "Let's go get something to eat."

Denmark did his 'victory screech' and strolled after the nations looking pretty proud of himself for convincing Scotland to take them out to eat, even when Prussia insisted that his awesomeness saved them all from starvation.

The Awesome Prussia licked the last bit of ketchup off his hands, which were very greasy after the large plate of fries (that Prussia had made himself, no way he was touching Eyebrow's food), while Denmark sat next to the albino, pouting. Said Dane was slightly upset when Prussia started freaking out after he said he was going to order chicken at the restaurant, because 'Mein Awesome friend Gilbert won't be able to handle seeing fellow birds get their flesh brutally torn apart off the bones by teeth'.

But it didn't matter anyway, because it was English food, so Denmark just didn't eat anything, just sat there watching Finland and Sweden enjoy their meal. It felt weird seeing Finland and Sweden happily chatting (or Finland happily chatting while Sweden glanced around the room, effectively scary everybody). The two seemed unfazed by the fact that they were eating England's food. Denmark couldn't quite wrap his head around that. Maybe they were only pretending to eat. Denmark should ask them the secret to not throwing up later on.

* * *

"Can we go home now?" Prussia, now full and satisfies, rubbed his stomach.

"No, we still have to get you guys pets. Unless you don't want any, but I'm sure an owl or two will be useful." Scotland replied. "And you can't forget your wands."

"Oi, Iceland doesn't need one, right? I mean, I'm the cutest thing you could ever ask for-" Mr. Pruffin began, not noticing Iceland perk up at the mention of new pets. Said nation grumbled.

"I think I should get a pet." Iceland huffed. Mr. Puffin's usual small, beady eyes widened, and his feathers were noticeably ruffled.

"Excuse me, Iceland, but I'm cuter, and for fuck's sake, why do you need another bird other than myself?" Mr, Pruffin was ignored by Iceland.

"Iceland. Oi, Iceland. I'm talking, you twat!" The small seemingly cute bird began to curse (the non-magical kind) at his nation companion.

"Eh? Can't we bring Hanatamago along?" Finland questioned.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think dogs are allowed." Hearing that, Finland frowned every so slightly.

"Wife...we don't have to bring a pet." Sweden stated.

"I know, but...I want a pet..."

"How about a cat? Or owl?" Iceland suggested.

"We can, but...what do we do when we have to introduce it to Hanatamago?"

"Don't worry about that." Scotland mumbled, getting quite impatient. "Your dog is nice, she won't hurt a soul. And you can always tell her to not kill the cat."

"But if she's separated from me for too long, she'll age normally..."

"You can sneak her in." A certain Dane spoke for the first time since they finished their meal.

"Eh? Will it work?"

"Look." Now Scotland is _really_ impatient. "Just... I'll ask Dumbledore if you can bring her along."

"R-really?"Finland looked up at the taller man hopefully.

"Sure." Scotland sighed. He didn't have all day to deal with this crap, so he just agreed. Finland's usual overly bright smile found its place on his face again, and even Sweden showed this small, small hint of happiness, but he still wasn't smiling.

* * *

Upon entering the pet shop, Mr. Puffin was hit in the face with smells - smells of birds, cats, toads, whatever. He didn't really care what was in there, as long as there is no other animal cuter than he is (which is impossible). He hoped that Iceland would just walk out the store again and just accept Mr. Puffin's beauty already...Alas, Iceland kept walking, pass cages of mewing cats and barking dogs. Mr. Puffin really didn't like this place. At all.

Mr. Puffin's webbed feet clung onto Iceland's shoulder as much as he can as the young silver-haired boy started walking towards the owl section, staring at one owl to the next. All the owls just let out angry hoots and gave Puffin long, scary glares, as if he wasn't allowed in there, and perhaps he was invading their territory. But it didn't matter, because none of these guys were as fucking cute as the great Puffin.

Strangely, Iceland's steps started going faster, confusing Mr. Puffin. First of all, Iceland had been stumbling around for a while now, probably not used to being small, but now he's just walking normally, without even trying, it seems. And sure, the bird was against this whole 'pet' thing, but every smart person would take their time to look around. And even if Iceland didn't fully acknowledge Puffin's cuteness, the bird knew damn well that the nation was sensible, compared to the rest of his Nordic family. Mr. Puffin looked into the boy's eyes, and they seemed...captivated by something. He followed Iceland's gaze...and he saw it.

Right at the back of the owlery, standing in a cage, was a magnificent pure white snowy owl. With smooth, clean feathers and eyes that seem to glow, the owl looked very beautiful - wait...what? Mr. Puffin scoffed. This damn bird isn't as beautiful as yours truly! Why Iceland seemed hypnotized by it, Mr. Puffin doesn't know. Even if Mr. Puffin could feel that strange pull, urging him to go near...no, nonsense.

Without a word, Iceland pointed a small finger to the owl, and it hooted at him. And for the first time in a long while, Iceland smiled. Which made Mr. Puffin even more agitated, because Iceland had never shown this soft, happy expression to him before.

"How much?" Iceland asked the shop owner. The old man smiled, and told the boy his price. Without even blinking, Iceland quickly produced his money and gave it to the man. Mr. Puffin couldn't believe it. He was being replaces by this lowly owl. There is _no way_ his day could get _any_ worse.

* * *

Prussia remained loyal to Gillbird and refused to enter the shop, so Scotland had to stay outside and look after him, you know, 'cuz he's Prussia, and well, Prussia does what Prussia does, really. Finland and Sweden decided to have a little look around, promising not to go too far, while the others looked for suitable pets. However, Denmark exited the shop with nothing, claiming that he doesn't really need anything. Iceland came from behind the Dane soon after, with the prettiest snowy owl Prussia has ever seen. Of course, it's not as awesome as Gilbird, but the owl was still captivating all the same.

"I'm naming her Snowy, by the way." Iceland announced once Finland and Sweden returned and they were all together again. Everyone mentally facepalmed at Iceland's awesome originality and creativity.

"Alrighty then. Everyone here? Good. Let's go get you guys some wands." Scotland immediately spun around to the direction of the wand shop and began marching, with the other young nations slowly walking behind him.

The wand shop looked ancient, to say the least, and it probably is. The sign over that door had letters that are already peeling off, and dust bunnies were everywhere. Not as dusty as England's basement-Finland shuddered at the memory of being shrunken- but the shop is still pretty shabby. The bell on the door gave a little ding as they went inside. There were thousands- no, millions of boxes of wands on the shelves on the walls. Finland had never seen so many wands in his (very long) life, and judging by the reactions of Prussia and Denmark, so did they. It was kind of hard to know whether Sweden and Iceland are surprised or not, but Iceland looked impressed by the sheer amount of wands, or at least as impressed Iceland could be because hey, this is Iceland we're talking about. Sweden showed nothing, and Scotland is used to it by now.

"Good afternoon"

Gillbert shrieked and traumatized Gillbird, who jumped in shock and landed in Denmark's shirt. Denmark started howling with laughter and tried to shake a terrified Gillbird out of his shirt. Gillbird clung on the inside of his shirt, too afraid to let go, which resulted in Denmark hollering on the top of his lungs and started dancing like an insane gorilla. It took at least thirteen minutes to get Prussia, Denmark, and Gillbird to calm down.

Ollivander started measuring the nations one by one, for God knows what reason (why measure someone to pick a wand anyway?) and went flying (not literally) around the room grabbing different wands for them to try out. Denmark was first, Ollivander taught him how to hold the wand correctly.

"Now just give it a try."

"...What?"

"Just swing it. Go on." Ollivander gave Denmark a small confident smile.

Denmark did as he was told, and right away a burst of bright white light shot out from the tip of the wand. Before anyone can blink, the white light had hit poor Finland, right on the face. The boy shrieked, out of surprise rather than pain, and brought up his hands to wipe...whatever off his face. But of course, one couldn't simply wipe magic off their face.

"M-Mathias - mew - what d-did you - mew - do...?"

Everyone gave the Fin confused looks.

"Wife...why are you mewing?"

"Wh-what? Mew. O-h my God - mew - I sound like a cat- b-but - mew - it feels like hiccuping!"

Denmark gulped, ready to face the wrath of an angry Finland. But Finland was kind enough not to snipe the Dane because it wasn't his fault, technically.

"Don't worry." Ollivander reassured Finland. "It'll wear off...soon."

"How - mew - soon is - mew - soon?" Finland asked nervously. Ollivander chuckled.

"No one knows, boy."

Finland sighed. Guess he'll just have to endure it.

Denmark decided to continue with the wand thing, desperate to end it quickly. Thankfully, the twelfth wand that he tried, "Dragon heartstrings, dogwood, nine inches, quite flexible," as Ollivander dubbed it,gave out a stream of red and white sparks; the same colour of Denmark's flag. Said nation gaped at it for a moment, the erupted into a fit of excitement.

"WHOOOOOOOO I GOT A WAND LJAHWELFA:EDLFKNHBfdokee":lj$irffaksfjlsdkgjalkfjLSKD:TGLKROJA:DLFMBJSBREOLF" After the "I got a wand" part, his speech became undecipherable. He knocked down a shelf of wand boxes, which Finland hurried to help clean it up with Sweden close behind, and Scotland muttering apologies to Ollivander.

Prussia was next, and immediately set fire to the shelves. After the fifty-fourth one, which, strangely, made Ollivander very excited, he got it. Yellow, black, and white sparkly thingies shot out of the nine-inch ebony wand with a phoenix feather, and Prussia held it up...the illuminati theme playing in the background...as he stared, his eyes shining, at his new wand...and Scotland facepalmed, as only he and Iceland were able to hear the illuminati theme in the background as Prussia was admiring his "MOST AWESOME-ES WAND IN THE WORLD, MEIN FREAKING GOTT!"

Next is the (still 'hiccuping') Finland, who got his wand after the 6th time, which is unicorn hair, beech, thirteen inches. Ollivander frowned every so slightly at how fast Finland got the right wand. Sweden's one took a bit longer, seventy-second try. His wand also has unicorn hair and is thirteen inches, made of cedar.

They left Ollivander's after staying for three hours or so. Finland is looking a little less bubbly as he is still hiccuping/mewing, and it was starting to get quite annoying and his throat hurts, but cheerful all the same. Even Sweden's intimidating aura had flickered out for a bit, but of course, never completely dying down. Both Prussia and Denmark were extremely happy that they were finally going to do some magic stuff.

"Now all we need is an awesome book on how to curse your friends! The Awesome Me is totally going to troll West once we find him." At the mention of that, Finland mentally sighed, relieved that he didn't buy that book he saw with Sweden earlier.

"Yup! Norge is going to be sooo pissed once I learn some great curses!" Denmark laughed.

Scotland was just glad that this day is finally over, and he can go and relax at home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rewritten chapter**

"ICELANDGETUPWE'REGOINGTOBELATEWHATAREYOUFDOINGONYOURBEDLET'SGETGOINGCOMEONE!"

Iceland opened his eyes and shifted them to the Dane standing on the toppled door of his hotel room that HE had to pay for because DENMARK broke it. He gave the Denmark his most horrendous death glare he could muster. Even when he's still sleepy, Denmark got the message and immediately slammed the door shut. (And it immediately fell back down again...) Iceland could hear him running down the hallway screaming, "HE'S GONNA KILL ME HEEEEEEELP!" Iceland facepalmed. The idiot's disturbing the other hotel guests. Good Lord.

Luckily, Scotland had somehow convinced the hotel manager to let the eleven-year-olds who were coming with him have separate rooms, and yes, they will be safe, and no, they will not wreck stuff. Otherwise, Iceland might have had to spend the night with Denmark, Prussia, AND Scotland himself. On the same bed. God.

He rubbed the sleep off his eyes and slid off his bed, which he found a bit harder than usual due to his height. WHY did he agree to this shit? Oh, wait, he didn't agree. WHY did Denmark and Prussia drag him into this? Oh wait, it was Norway, the person who is not and never will be his brother, who dragged him into this. Iceland groaned to himself as he lifted the door up and put them back on its hinges. Oh, how he wished he was as strong as Denmark right now...perks of having good military, Iceland guessed.

The boy felt slightly paranoid as he got ready for school. The first day...in a school with witches and wizards. Of course, he wasn't a muggle, for he was related to the one and only totally-not-his-older-brother Norway (who had, for some reason, refused to let him get near magic until now). But still. First days are terrifying. And when he's at home, he didn't have to deal with Prussia and Denmark in the same room.

Iceland shook the scary thoughts of Prussia and Denmark in the same room out of his head. Or tried to, anyway. He is still hoping that, for the love of licorice, Prussia and Denmark isn't in the same room. Ever. Because now that Norway is a teacher and can't be with them 24/7 like he usually is, only he, Finland, and Sweden could stop the two. Of course it was already enough, but Norway was the only nation out of the Nordics who went to the School of Learning How to Not Accidentally Kill Your Family.

He sighed. _Please don't let these two ruin the experience of learning magic_.

Iceland glanced at the windowsill. Normally, at this hour, Mr. Puffin will be blabbing his beak out, but today, the bird wasn't there. In his place was a little note with the most horrendous handwriting Iceland has ever seen. Squinting, Iceland tried as best as he can to make out what it is. 'L'nn flshlmg, L'li moet yow oT tne Traim ctoTiem or wnaIewor' is what it says, but after countless years of living with the guy, Iceland could understand that Mr. Puffin went out to get some fish for breakfast and will meet him at the train station 'or whatever'.

Iceland sighed again, this time louder, and out of relief. Puffin is quite - OK, _really_ annoying, but is Iceland's only friend so far.

The young nation checked the mirror. Staring back at him was a boy with a plain black t-shirt and blue jeans - he didn't want to attract attention with his normal clothes, even if half of it will be covered by a cloak.

He turned to Snowy, who was gnawing what could possibly be rat bones in her cage. Even when eating, the bird looked so majestic that Iceland forgot to question where the bones come from. For moments, he stared, captivated by the beauty. Snowy owls had amazing feathers...

Snapping out of it, Iceland smiled (kind of...a really small smile...OK, not really a smile) at his new pet and tugged on his shirt.

"Do you think I would stand out in this?" Even when he knew that it couldn't answer, he just felt compelled to ask it since Mr. Puffin wasn't there, so Snowy can take his place, for now. Said owl hooted what sounded like approval, and he reached up to take her cage. He had to tiptoe because he was so small. His size was becoming rather inconvenient.

Picking up his other belongings and looking through the hotel room one more time, he closed the door behind him.

"Let's go, Snowy."

* * *

"I AM THE MOST SUPREME, THE STRONGEST! BOW DOWN TO YOUR GOD!"

"WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW NORDICS! WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW NORDICS! WE ARE THE NORDIC FIVE!"

Iceland's ears probably bled a little, though whether form Prussia's terrible singing voice or Denmark's (magnificent) obnoxiously loud voice, he didn't know. What is even more of a mystery is that Finland is SLEEPING through this like a Greek. It was understandable, considering the fact that Iceland had been woken up several times in the night to hear mews and Finland's groans. Said nation's head fell on a certain Swede's shoulder the second he sat down in the car. It was a relief, because judging by the looks of their faces, Snowy and Hanatamago were getting really creeped out.

Scotland, who was in the driver's seat, looked back for the 78th time to yell, "SHUT THE HELL UP!" At one point he almost hit a cat so he had to swerve too much to the right, making both Denmark AND Prussia to lose their balance (yes they were standing. Being eleven makes it easier) and they tumbled down on Finland. The sniper was pissed that he was woken up from his peaceful nap, and a dark aura began surrounding him and he gave Denmark and Prussia this demonic smile. Or a grimace.

Eyes twitching, the Fin stared straight into their souls and cooed, "Do you want to have a bad time?"

Hanatamago, who was sitting on his lap, stared at him with wide eyes and prayed to Doitsu that if she will die, at least let her die quickly so she didn't have to face Finland's wrath.

However, before Finland could materialize his sniper and shoot the hell out of everyone, Scotland cursed again, and the car took a sharp turn. Finland stumbled and fell right into Sweden's arms. Iceland watched as Finland immediately calmed down when Sweden hugged him.

Suddenly, the car shook, and a deafening crash filled Iceland's ears.

Scotland spent the rest of his day standing on the side of the street trying to explain to a very outraged truck driver while the Nordics (minus Norway, who wasn't traveling with them for obvious reasons) and Prussia went on the bus to get to King's Cross on time. (I pity those poor, poor souls who are unfortunate enough to be on that bus.) The bus rattled so much that Finland, now slightly happier, had to move from sleeping on Sweden's shoulder to curling up and lying down, his head resting on Sweden's lap. If one payed enough attention, they would see a slight tinge of red on Sweden's cheeks. Hanatamago flopped down on Finland's head, tired of everyone's bullshit. Denmark had bought a 'few' bags of chips at the bus station and is now sharing it with Prussia and Gillbird, who had nestled in Prussia's hair. In conclusion, at least it was better than the car ride with Scotland...

They got to King's Cross just mere minutes before the train is scheduled to leave, and searched for a Platform 9 and 3 Quarters. Iceland spotted a small figure heading for him, and was relieved to see that it was Mr. Puffin. The bird, satisfied with his breakfast, landed on Iceland's shoulder as usual. However, he didn't notice the glares that Snowy shot him. The group wandered around between Platform 9 and 10 wondering where it is and how the FUCK they are going to get on it. Suddenly, Denmark let out a loud gasp (Like, REALLY loud) and pointed to a wall.

"Denmark, I know you probably don't know this, but that's called a wall." Iceland commented.

"NO, I SAW A PERSON JUMP INTO THE WALL! LIKE RIGHT THROUGH IT!"

"You're probably hallucinating, Den."

"No, I-mew- saw it too-mew."

It turns out that there actually IS a barrier right there, between Platform Nine and Ten, as the nations learned from a plump red-haired woman. Sweden, being the only one brave enough, went first, carrying Finland's AND his own luggage with him. They were advised to run if they're nervous, but the Swede walked straight to it- and he was gone. Finland went next, breaking into a run and braced himself for a crash- but landed in Sweden's arms (Which, by the way, made a few 'older' girls squeal and blush). Finland smiled at them and stood up, dusting himself. Hundreds of pairs of eyes fell upon the two as they walked down the train to find a seat, holding hands.

Denmark went next, and lost control of his trolley and smashed into the ticket box. All his luggage went flying, only to be caught by Iceland, who put them in his own trolley and plunged through the barrier without hesitation. Prussia did his signature "KESESESESESESESE!" and pushed his own trolley into the Platform, leaving an alarmed Denmark to quickly scramble to his feet and sprint after his fellow countries. The second he went pass the barrier, he skidded to a halt and suddenly dropped to the ground again, panting. Hanatamago took this opportunity and hopped on his head and stayed there, looking quite relaxed, to say the least. The puppy stretched, let out a soft yawn and closed her eyes, his paws on Denmark's forehead. The other students who were aboard cooed.

The Dane didn't seem to notice, however, and got up and walked straight to the first carriages. Iceland sighed and went after him, making sure he doesn't try anything stupid. Prussia skipped - yes, _skipped -_ into the train and of course, started shouting over the already noisy crowd about his power and awesomeness. Of course, this alerted Finland and Sweden, and was on his heels. And not a second too soon.

"Oi. You guys. The Awesome ME wants to sit here in this awesome seat, so if you don't mind-"

"Oh, bug off." The blond kid that Prussia had been talking to narrowed his eyes. Iceland remembered the kid as the guy who was buying cloaks with who he assumed was Harry Potter. The kid's name was...Drago or something.

"THE AWESOME ME DESERVES HIS LOVE AND RESPECT, DAMN IT! THIS IS MY SEAT- yes, I know, you got here first- BUT I AM GILBERT, YOUR NEW AWESOME GOD, AND THEREFORE I OWN THIS ENTIRE TRAIN AND COMMAND YOU TO LEAVE THIS CARRIAGE AT ONCE!" The albino insisted. The other kid growled.

"Well listen here, you don't own anything, and I'll tell my father on you." The two locked eyes, and Prussia frowned and got into his battle stance. Around them, the students began shouted and chanting names. Oh - the kid's name was Draco Malfoy, it seems.

Before the dissolved nation could hurt innocent lives, Sweden locked Prussia by the armpits and dragged the protesting albino to one of the compartments way in the back, while Finland apologized for his friend's rudeness, mewing many times in the process.

"Ha, the kid's mewing!" Draco snickered, and the other students burst out laughing. Finland furrowed his eyebrows and curled his hand into a fist as jeers and insults lashed at him. Resisting the urge to punch a person, instead the angry sniper spun around, teeth clenched, and marched away.

Finland reunited with his friends in one of the back compartments, his cheeks scarlet.

"They-mew-made fun of-mew- my hiccuping-mew."

A red haired boy, similar to the woman they talked to before getting on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, blinked. Another boy, with a peculiar aura, looked confused.

"Um, are you...mewing?"

Finland's face reddened even more, and Denmark turned away and started to whistle.

"Well, um, there -mew - was a-an accident when we t-tried out - mew - the wands..." he stuttered and speed-walked to a seat next to Sweden.

"Oh." The boy clearly didn't get it, but didn't press further, the evidence in the guilty look on his face.

Finland turned his attention to a certain Prussian.

"This is the second time today that I am angry. You do not. Go pick fights. Or I will. Kill. You." He smiled again, a very Russia-like smile, and his aura grew even bigger than Sweden. Prussia's face fell, and he retreated to the furthest back of the compartment in a desperate attempt to save his life. But before Finland could lay a finger on Prussia, someone interrupted.

"What's your name?" Iceland asked the red-haired boy, changing the subject.

"Ronald Weasley. You can call me Ron." Finland began opening his mouth to lecture Prussia, but was silenced after feeling the pat on his shoulder, and Sweden gestured to the seat next to himself. Finland sighed and made his way there, plopping down on the leather, though his eyes were still narrowed and he had a deep frown and an awkward tension lingered in the air.

"I am Berwald Oxensierna. And this is my wife." Sweden stated. Finland almost shuddered, for Sweden now seemed much more intimidating than he usually is, but right now the sniper was a bit too pissed to get scared. Ron noticed it too, so he didn't have the confidence to ask what the blond meant by 'wife'.

"I'm Tino Väinämöine -mew- call me Ti -mew- no."The hiccuping/mewing did NOT make his speech easy to understand. At least he wasn't stammering like he normally is.

Denmark excitedly pointed to the dark-haired boy. "FI-I MEAN TINO! THIS GUY IS HARRY POTTE-" Denmark got smacked on the head with the book Iceland was reading. It seems that they have already introduced themselves.

"Let him introduce himself, Mathias." Denmark rubbed the back of his head where Iceland had hit him. Harry seemed uncomfortable with all the attention, so Iceland was smart enough to leave the poor boy alone until he got used to being famous.

Finland understood too. He smiled and nodded at Harry. "Please excuse -mew-him, he can be a-mew- bit of a hassle -mew-sometimes."

"Hey!"

Denmark shut upped when Sweden (not literally) shot daggers from his eyes. The Danish boy retreated to a seat next to a sleeping Prussia and played with Gilbird while Finland and Sweden (Mostly a slightly happier Finland though) chatted with Ron and Harry. When Ron noticed Hanatamago, he immediately slipped Scabbers back into his shirt pocket, but the puppy is still sleeping, so as time passed he relaxed a little. Finland found it odd, besides the fact that it was clear Hanatamago was a dog, that even when Ron said that the rat is useless, he really cares about Scabbers. Well, somewhere in the darkest corners of our mind, we actually love the things we say we hate. The topic of their conversation got to family and money problems, then Voldemort, then Harry's worries about not being good in class, to which Finland reassured him that he will be fine.

After a while, a woman with a trolley full of sweets came by and asked if they wanted anything. Denmark leaped to his feet only to sit down again on the account of Iceland pulling his ear. Harry suddenly perked up and went to buy probably anything he can carry, while Ron took out some sandwiches. Iceland lost his grip on Denmark's ear so he raced to the trolley along with Prussia, who miraculously had woken up from the smell of sweets. Ron stared at the three who bought everything on the trolley.

Of course, Denmark was thoughtful enough to get Iceland some licorice, which the young nation was thankful of.

"You guys hungry?" Before Harry could answer, Denmark had already swallowed about two Cauldron Cakes and managed to let out a "Yes!" with his mouth full of food. Prussia spat out an Every-flavoured bean. "Dog food,' he mumbled as Hanatamago leaped at Prussia. The dog could speak, but because there were other humans on board, she chose not to and instead stared at Prussia hoping to get a bite.

"Mathias, don't -mew-talk with your mouth-mew- full!" Denmark swallowed and patted his chest.

"Sorry, _mom._ "

Now, normally Finland is a nice and kind guy, always trying to make everyone happy. But when he is mad, _he is mad. Especially if he is made for the third time that morning._

Screams can be heard all throughout the train when Finland, chased him around the train compartment. Sweden rigidly stood up and walked to a trapped Denmark shivering in the corner. He help Denmark up by his shirt and listened silently as Denmark started spitting out apologies and "I won't do it again!" and "Please let me go, I'm too young to die!" After a few moments, without warning, Sweden punched Denmark right on the face with a horrifying crunch. Ron and Harry watched in horror as Denmark's unconscious body level with the floor. They stared at the unmoving form that lay mangled, his face bruised. Sweden stalked back to his seat and sat down while Finland gave him a look that says, "You didn't have to go that far." but nevertheless, he too sat down. Ron was the first to utter a word since the Dane's fall.

"I-is he going t-to be OK?"

"Huh?" Finland turned his eyes to Ron, making him start shivering. "Oh, yeah, he'll be - mew - fine. We do this all the - mew - time at home. He's going to wake up again and pretend nothing ever happened. Right, Su-san?"

"Mm."

Ron still looks uncertain. He and Harry talked quietly for some time, shooting glances at Denmark occasionally. At some point, a boy came to ask if they had seen his frog, but hurriedly left with a terrified squeak when he saw Denmark on the floor. Seconds later, a girl with bushy brown hair came in along with the toadless boy. Needless to say, she was terrified.

"IS-IS HE OK? HOW COULD YOU LEAVE HIM LIKE THAT? I'LL GO GET A TEACHER!" Before she can go, Finland gabbed her arm. She turned around and yelled a sharp "WHAT?!"

"He'll be - mew - fine. We do this - mew - all the time at home - mew." Finland repeated what he said to Weasley. The girl, which they later found out was named Hermione Granger, started to argue, but Finland managed to convince her that Denmark is OK. Sure enough, when they've waited a while, Denmark got up, a hand on the bruise on his face.

"Ow..."

"See? mew - Nothing to worry - mew - about." Finland smiled. "We'll get him - mew - medical treatment when we - mew - can, don't worry."

Finland smiled and turned to Denmark. "Mathias, are you okay?" He asked in his menacing voice, his expression screaming, _"No way in hell are we going to give you medical treatment."_

"Yeah, a little bruise can't hurt me!" He winced. Hermione, still dubious, dragged a terrified Neville Longbottom out the train compartment while Ron stared at Denmark, who had plopped down on the seat next to Prussia. Prussia offered him some licorice wands, which he gladly accepted and ate like he didn't just almost die from Sweden's punch. Amazing how he can just ignore the bruises on his face and actually chew this food...

After that there was just silence, save for Denmark's chewing and Finland's soft snores when he dozed off on Sweden's shoulder again, and an occasional shout form Denmark when he got a chocolate frog card. Suddenly, the door slid open to reveal the same boy from the cloak shop with two others behind him, probably his friends/servants/bodyguards/strangers whom he had just met. The boy strides to Harry's seat and sneered.

"They've been saying all down the train that Harry Potter's here. It's you, isn't it?" He then proceeded in introducing himself and the big bulky guys next to him. Sweden pretended not to care, though he sneaked a few glances at the trio, making sure they won't lay a finger on Harry. Denmark saw Ron clench his fist when the boy, Draco, insulted his family. When Harry refused to shake Draco's hand, he went pink and taunted them. Both Harry and Ron stood up, along with Sweden. The sudden motion woke Finland up, who quickly read the atmosphere and decided to keep quiet, though the anger in his eyes were clear. Draco then turned to Finland.

"Hey, you're that one weird guy who was mewing, aren't you. What?" Silence. "Can't understand that? Aaaw, what a cute kit-"

He was cut of when Sweden swiftly stood up and grasp Draco's neck, his hand in a tight grip. Malfoy sputtered, trying desperately to get a gist of air in his lungs. Sweden's dark aura returned, and he looked straight into Draco's eyes.

"Say that again, and I will kill you." he is no mistaking the rage in the Swede's eyes. Crabbe and Goyle lunged at Sweden from behind him, but there was a streak of white, and in a matter of seconds, Hanatamago was on Crabbe's face. He screamed and tried to pull the puppy off, but Hanatamago clung there, successfully tearing out some of Crabbe's skin with his blunt claws. Crabbe yowled, and Hanatamago delivered a bite to his nose. Goyle raced to Crabbe to help, but was stopped when Scabbers hurdled at Goyle. Harry and Ron watched helplessly as the two boys were being attacked by a fluffy puppy and a very old rat. Those animals sure know how to fight...

Crabbe finally managed to get Hanatamago of and flung the dog away, turning to Goyle and tore Scabbers off of his shirt. Sweden, knowing that he can't show more of his power, glared at Malfoy one last time and growled something under his breath, probably another threat. The smaller boy nodded feebly, and was released. He gasped for air and stumbled out the compartment door, sliding it shut with a loud bang; and was gone. Sweden stared at the door, his already dark aura intensifying.

And at this moment, Harry and Ron knew...they fucked u - wait, that not right. Let's do that again, shall we?

And at that moment, Harry and Ron knew that this person, Berwald, is not a force to be reckoned with. He seems intimidating at first glance, but gets even more shocking when provoked. They both made mental notes to never, _never_ tease the Finn that seemed to be the cause of his aggression. Not to mention the Fin himself will tear anyone's skin off.

Said Fin raced to Hanatamago to make sure she was alright, and Ron returned Scabbers to his shirt pocket. Iceland tried to calm down Snowy, who, in all the chaos, began screeching and trying to break the metal cage that held her.

Ron, trying to "lighten" up the mood, turned to Harry and asked, "So, uh, Harry, have you met him before..or something?"

"Yeah, in Diagon Alley." He said no more.

Hermione burst into the compartment.

"I saw someone running up the train screaming about a crazy dark wizard trying to kill him."

"Or so he said. There is no crazed dark wizard in here." Ron laughed nervously, shooting glances at Sweden, who had started a conversation with Finland. The weird thing about this Tino kid is that he is always _smiling,_ even after what just happened. It feels like no such thing took place at all.

Hermione massaged her temples. "Whatever you say. Now I came here to tell you guys to put on your robes. We're almost there. And you guys better not be fighting or you'll get in trouble, and we haven't even gotten there yet! And please, clean up this mess." She gestured to the sweets on the floor and left.

Iceland kicked Denmark and Prussia, who had fallen asleep due to being too full, and they all slid into their robes; as Sweden straightened Finland's robes, Harry shuddered.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please get ready to leave, and leave your luggage there. Those will be taken to your rooms separately. Thank you."

Ron looked pale, and Finland smiled. Harry was just too anxious to care what he looked like. Prussia and Denmark stuffed their pockets with the last of their sweets and joined the crowd in the corridor. A lamp can be seen, and a voice boomed,

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! Alright there, Harry?" Harry's face went red with all the attention he was getting. The first years stumbled down the narrow path, but nobody spoke. Neville sniffed once or twice, and there was, of course, Finland's hiccuping/mewing (Which earned him a lot of stares) but otherwise there was awkward silence. Hagrid told the students that they will see Hogwarts in just a minute, and then there were collective gasps and "OOOOOH"s and "AAAAAAH"s from the front of the crowd. At first Iceland couldn't see anything due to his height, but after a while, he understood why.

In front of him, as the path suddenly opened to a great black lake, its water barely glistening. But that wasn't as beautiful as the gigantic and complicated-looking castle on the other side of the lake, with every small nook and cranny was decorated and detailed in such a way that made Iceland's jaw hit the ground. The castle looked ancient but well-kept, and with the lake and everything, possesses an eerie vibe. Iceland had no doubt that Denmark and Prussia would get lost in every five seconds.

Hagrid turned around to face everyone and told them to quiet down. When he was sure that everyone was listening to him, he announcedinformed everyone that there should be no more than four on a boat. Iceland frowned and climbed on a barely unstable one with some other stranger while Denmark, Prussia, Finland and Sweden got on another. He sighed. Even surrounded by thousands of people, he is always lonely. How depressing.

Hagrid got a whole boat to himself, which didn't surprise anyone, and after making sure that everyone is in one, he roared,

"FORWARD!"


	4. Chapter 4

**(Kind of) Rewritten**

Iceland watched Neville get reunited with his lost toad, and he half-smiled. Iceland felt happy for the boy, because he knew what it feels like when Mr. Puffin leaves without leaving a note. No matter how crappy your pets are, they are your best (*cough* only) friends. He wondered what Mr. Puffin was up to now. The puffin was being transferred along with Snowy to the owlery, and he hoped that the bird would stay out of trouble...

Iceland snapped out of his daydreaming when the giant man Hagrid knocked on the door with three loud thumps, and the huge wooden structure creaked open. He shrugged and went with the others into a hall large enough to fit more than a house. Two houses, maybe. Who knows, and who cares. He simply followed the crowd without actually seeing where they were going and snapped out of it when someone entitle "Professor McGonagall" explained the Sorting to the first-years. What a long ass name. The professor left the chamber after telling them to get ready, but to get ready for what, Iceland wasn't sure.

Chattering broke out among the first-years, some terrified, some nervous, and some, like Sweden, didn't show much emotion. Hell, Iceland was sure that half the chattering that wasn't about meeting their doom in a test, but was about a certain dissolved nation. It seemed that word traveled fast about how the annoying boy that looked no older than eleven would dare utter so much a threat another student, especially one from such a "high-class pureblood family", as they called the Malfoys.

Surprisingly, not many people said anything about the unnerving thing known as Sweden, who had actually almost killed the boy. But Iceland knew that sooner or later, this Malfoy guy will say something about it to get them in trouble. Maybe Malfoy was saving it as his trump card when he needs to blame someone in their group, because honestly Iceland knew that Malfoy already hated them in the five minutes they made eye contact with each other. However, the countries wasn't scared of the Malfoys or the Ministry of Magic, so the nasty rumors that were spread didn't really bother him. Prussia, who had heard everything that was being talked about due to his nation hearing, pouted and muttered something about being awesome while Sweden just stood there, arm hanging on Finland's shoulder protectively.

Iceland heard a couple of screams, and snapped out of his trance. What happe...oh.

Ghosts-about twenty of them, Iceland counted-came out of the walls. They floated around, their white bodies kind of glimmering a bit. He heard a surprised yelp of a certain Dane, and Finland, who doesn't seem to be disturbed at all, smiled at them and waved. Iceland caught sight of one of them waving back. He wasn't afraid, living close to hell with the demons and all, but he was just slightly confused on why the ghosts are here. Aren't they supposed to be making their way to either Heaven or Hell by now?

They ghosts were shouting at the new students, "Hope you get sorted in Ravenclaw!" or "I was in Hufflepuff before I died a horrible death that I don't want to talk about!" or "Slytherin is the best house!" (Which was answered with "No way! Gryffindor is!" and the two ghosts started having a fight right in front of their eyes.) or random comments like "I like trains." Luckily, Professor McGonagall came back in exactly the right moment to stop the fight and shooed out all the ghost, who cheerily said goodbye and left through another wall.

The student formed a line ("What? A line? Totally unawesome.") The Nordics (Minus Norway and plus Prussia) stayed together, mostly because Finland is determined not to lose sight of Prussia and Denmark. They went into the Great Hall, and instantly everyone, even Iceland, were in awe. There were _floating_ candles over the four long tables with all the other students, and the ceiling had millions of stars. Or is it a ceiling at all? No, there has to be a ceiling. Then how could...oh, wait. Magic. Right. Denmark gaped at the bewitched ceiling and Prussia muttered one word, "Awesome." And indeed, it is a sight to behold, truly spectacular, and yes, awesome. Iceland couldn't help (for once) agreeing with the Prussia. Iceland scanned the long table where the teachers sat, and sure enough, there was Norway, looking as stoic as ever, though he could see a flicker of amusement in his brother's eyes.

"What are we going to do with that hat?"

Wha-? Oh. Professor McGonagall (God, that name is a mouthful) had a very frayed and dirty wizard's hat, probably centuries old, in her hand. And to his surprise, the hat began singing. Well, to be honest, what would Iceland expect? Everything here is almost (if not _more_ ) as unpredictable as a certain very self-centered albino and a blue-eyed axe-carrying blond who now seemed to be the Prussian's best friend...

After the hat's amazing (but not as amazing as Always With You) song, everyone bursts into an applause.

"Damn, Gil, the hat can sing better than you."

"Shut up, Matthias."

Finland shushed them.

"Abbott, Hannah!" There was a great silence in the Hall as the girl got up and trotted to the stool. Iceland watched intently at what she is going to do next. "Hannah" placed and hat on her head, and no one spoke (But of course, Finland's hiccuping/mewing showed no sign of stopping, thus ruining the very tense moment. Damn, Denmark. Of all things your wand would make, it made Finland go through this .) The hat gave out a loud screech. "HUFFLEPUFF!" The Hufflepuff table clapped loudly and cheered as Hannah went to join them.

This went on for quite some time, then he heard Prussia's name.

"Beilschmidt, Gilbert!" The dissolved nation strolled to the stool with a smirk on his face. Because of his enhanced hearing,Iceland could hear the albino muttering to himself something like, "Thisissoawesomefinallyit'stheAwesomeme'sturnyasIamthebravestandmostsupremeandIwillcommandthebravestandthebesthousethisplacehastooffer,eitherthatortheAwesomeMewillmakemyownhouse!" Jeez, there is something WRONG with the Prussian. Iceland rolled his eyes and facepalmed.

Prussia plopped down on the stool and placed the hat on his head, causing Gilbird to have to move to his shoulder. The hat fell and covered his eyes. Stupid tiny body.

"So, where should I put you?" Oh, so the hat can talk through thoughts. Huh.

He opened his mouth. "The Awesome me-"

"You _do_ know that you're making yourself look stupid by speaking out loud, right?" If the hat had eyes it would have rolled them.

 _O-oh. Um._ Prussia felt his face heat up. _The Awesome Me want to be in a house. The Awesome Me would rather be alone because I 99.99% doubt that anyone in this school is good enough to have me, The Great Prussia, be on the same level._ Oh shit, oh shit, he accidentally revealed his status as a nation.

"Don't worry. I know the existence of nations and such; England used to be here too."

 _Oh, so West's totally unawesome friend was here? Wait, why the hell would he have to go to a school? He's the country, for goodness's sake!_

"Reasons, Prussia. He had reasons that I am not allowed to tell." Oh.

 _What house was he in though?_

"Slytherin."

 _Slytherin? Sounds like a couple of pussies._

"That's not...Prussia, I think you'd be best suited for Slytherin..."

 _What? No! Draco freaking Malfoy is in that house, why the fuck-_

"Okay, okay, I'll put you in another house."

 _Can I get my own house?_

"No."

 _Fine. If I can't be in my own house, then at least I want to be in the best house, with the bravest and most fearsome fighters._

The Sorting Hat chuckled. "Well in that case, I should put you in...GRYFFINDOR!" The hat yelled the last word out loud and Prussia received cheers from what is apparently the best house. He took off the hat and paraded to their table so everyone could witness his glory and awesomeness.

Professor McBurger-something-seagull continued calling out names and one by one the other students got in their houses. The Hermione girl got in Gryffindor too, making Prussia groan. He has to deal with her now... mein gott. After a while, the professor with a long name hollered out another recognizable name.

"Køhler,Matthias!" Said Dane cheerfully bounced to take his seat on the chair. When the hat is on his head, though, he lost his grin and frowned.

"Hello, Denmark."

 _Wait, how..?_

"I know about your kind. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone else."

 _Good._

"Do you have a preference, or do you want me to decide?"

 _You decide, but make sure I get to have fun and drink alcohol._

The hat sighed. "Well, I can get you into a house that you will enjoy being in, but unfortunately you're not allowed to drink yet. You're supposed to be eleven, remember? And even if you're older, I doubt you will get to drink any alcohol because the school has a strict no-alcohol policy." Denmark pouted.

 _Wait 'til Prussia hears about this. He will surely murder everyone here when he knows he can't have beer. That is, of course, if I don't go on a rampage and do it first._

"Well, now, Denmark. It's not my fault if you do that. Now, back to the sorting..." The hat stopped talking for a few moments, occasionally murmuring to itself.

"Well...there's loyalty...but...no, that won't do...Slytherin is a bit...ah...Nope, definitely not Ravenclaw, this idiot can't do anything..."

 _I heard that!_

The hat chose to ignore the Dane. "Hmm...well, there's certainly bravery there...no doubt..."

 _Are you done yet? I can't wait for the feast._

"Ah, yes, I think you will do great in GRYFFINDOR!"

Denmark let out a whoop as he went to join Prussia, who clapped him on the back and gave the rest of the unsorted nations a thumbs up. Iceland watched in horror as the two chatted with the other Gryffindors. Prussia and Denmark together...the Gryffindors won't be able to handle it. He started debating on whether he should get in Gryffindor too to keep and eye on them, but on the other hand...his life will be a living hell. God, he had a headache. Should he go to Gryffindor or should he not...?

"Oxenstierna, Berwald!" Iceland had been thinking for so long that he didn't realize his friend walk up to the stool, face completely expressionless. The students admired the Swede for not being nervous or excited at all. Or a few of them are, anyway. A lot of them already got a gist of what happened with Malfoy and the train, and are eyeing him suspiciously.

"How can he do it?" One of the Weasley twins whispered to Denmark, though he wasn't sure which one.

Denmark blinked. "Do what?"

"Normally people get anxious, you know. Or just excited. He's just...he doesn't seem to feel anything about this." Oh, right.

"That's just his thing. I've lived with him long enough to realize literally nothing can get him excited."

The Weasley blinked. "You live together?"

Denmark nodded. "Yeah. He's sort of like my neighbor." The spiky-haired blond scratched his neck. "He's a bit scary sometimes so I never really asked about his emotions, you know."

"Well... yeah..." the red-haired student was soon joined by his twin.

"Hold on a sec. Didn't you say you guys came from different countries? Then how did you guys become best friends? How long have you known each other?" Denmark' brain isn't the fastest, so when Prussia spotted him having a hard time to think of a cover story, he stopped his conversation with some other students and stepped in.

"Well, you see, uh, we kinda had an exchange student program at, uh, our old (totally unawesome) muggle school...and that's how we got to know each other...yeah..."

Denmark played along and nodded. "Yeah. What he said. They...er...My parents let them live in my house." The Weasley twins looked at each other, still unconvinced, but decided to believe it..for now.

"So...anyways..." Prussia is somehow smart enough to notice the tension and changed the subject. "Which one of you is Fred and which one of you is George?"

The twins pointed at each other and yelled at the same time, "He's Fred!"

...

"Ah, Sweden, is it?"

 _Mm._

"Do you have a preference, or should I choose?"

 _I want to be in the same house as Finland._

"Well, he's not sorted yet, now is he?"

 _Which house do you think he'll get to go to then?_

"Hmm...judging from your memories, I think your friend be best suited for Hufflepuff. You are pretty loyal yourself, so you'll fit right in. How about that?"

 _Then I'll be in Hufflepuff then._

"Okay, then. HUFFLEPUFF!" There were a few cheers from the house, just a few, but even that quickly died out when the Swede walked up to them, his dark aura returning. The confused Hufflepuffs were left to wonder how he ended up in Hufflepuff, of all houses.

There was a big uproar in the Gryffindor house when The Boy Who Lived stumbled to their table. Prussia and Denmark joined the Weasley twins in cheering "WE'VE GOT POTTER! WE'VE GOT POTTER!" making the Great Hall very noisy indeed. Everyone was joyful lively, except the Slytherins, who seemed really furious. They fumed and some banged their fist on the table, but otherwise said nothing. No one paid attention to them anyways, so if they're gonna sulk, then let them sulk.

"Steilsson, Emil!" Ohshitohshitohshit . What should he do? He hadn't decided yet. SHOULD HE BE IN GRYFFINDOR OR NOT? If not, then who would babysit the energetic Denmark and the possibly mentally unstable Prussia? Iceland was frustrated. He put on the hat and prayed that Fate would help him.

"Ah, very anxious, are you?"

 _Yes._ He didn't say anything else.

"Well, tell you what. I'll ask your friend Ron to take care of them and you can enjoy life."

 _But if I let that happen, it will feel like a murder._

"Don't worry, Iceland. Denmark and Prussia could handle themselves. They're serious when it comes to it, and clever, too, if you give them a chance."

 _Do you really think so? I mean...Prussia. Clever. Two words that don't go together very well._

"Probably." The hat would have shrugged if it had shoulders.

 _OK then..._

"Still uncertain, are you. Don't worry, they'll hopefully not get themselves in trouble."

 _That's not really reassuring._

He heard the hat laugh. "Do you want me to choose a house for you, or do you have a preference?"

 _Hmm...what house do you think will suite me?_

"...Slytherin."

 _...I'll be with Sweden, thanks._

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Iceland sighed. Hufflepuff with Sweden. At least he's normal...

"Väinämöinen, Tino!" Finland hiccuped/mewed as he stumbled up to the stool, laughter echoing through the hall with his very step. Oh, he was so going to snipe some people this year. As soon as the hat touched his hair, though, even without him saying anything, it shrieked, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The slightly confused Finland trotted slightly more happily to take a seat next to the awaiting Sweden.

After Ron's Sorting, the red-haired boy went up to Harry and collapse on a chair.

"Hey, something weird just happened."

Harry blinked. He didn't even get to congratulate his friend yet. "What is it?"

"The hat told me to watch after Matthias and Gilbert." He jabbed a thumb at the direction the two were at.

"Well, after what we've seen on the train, I'm not all that surprised."

"Let's just hope I don't die first..."

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" Harry, Ron, and basically everyone else stopped their chattering and turned to look at the old wizard with silver hair. Harry recognized him as Albus Dumbledore, the person in the card from the chocolate frog that Gilbert got and announced to the world about. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling.

"Now, before we start,"he continued,"I would like to introduce someone. From today on, Lukas Bondevik will be the assistant professor. He will fill in any spot when a teacher is absent and help anyone. Now, remember, he should still be treated as a professor, so show some respect."

Finally, the strange and possibly mentally ill guy ended his speech with "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" and suddenly there was food in the plates and everyone dug in. While Harry and the other first-years talked to Nearly Headless Nick, as they called him, Prussia and Denmark are trying _really_ hard to not barf all over the table when the smell of British food filled their nostrils. Denmark covered his mouth and told everyone that he felt sick, and Prussia, who figured that he can't use the same excuse, tried to eat as much as he can. The only thing the Prussia actually touched are the boiled and roasted potatoes, as well as some, but very few, of the beef, chicken and pork chops.

Finland doesn't think the food is bad, but the poor guy can't enjoy his meal properly due to the DAMN HIC-MEWING. Seeing his struggles, Sweden shot Denmark a murderous glare. After choking on some lamb chops for the thousandth time, he eventually gave up and fed his food to Hanatamago. The puppy munched on the sausages as if she hadn't eaten in days, though Finland was sure he fed her that morning. After gnawing on the last bone, the now plump ball of fur jumped on Finland's lap and dozed off peacefully. Finland sighed. He had missed his chance to eat perfectly good food thanks to the wand incident. He'll have to talk to a professor about this...

Norway is having a conversation -or whatever is as close to a conversation as you can get with Norway- with some fellow professors at the High Table. That Quirrell guy...he looks odd. And the turban is far too big. He'll have to investigate later...Also that Snape person...Norway caught him looking at Harry, so he followed his gaze and saw the boy grimace in pain and touch his scar. There is something wrong...

When everyone is full and happy- except Finland, Denmark, and Prussia- Dumbledore warned them about a couple rules and regulations, like not going into the Forbidden Forest- his eyes fell on Gilbert, Matthias, and the Weasley twins- and no alcohol- everyone heard a loud cry from a certain albino, while a sobbing Matthias tried to comfort him.- and told them about Quidditch trials and such announcements. What Norway also find odd is that Dumbledore _always_ tells everyone why something is off-limits, but the aged wizard offered no explanation why the students shouldn't go in the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side unless they want to die a very painful death. _Why would they die? What's there?_

Norway is also still suspicious about Quirrell;the dang turban was too damn big, and the way he spoke just irks Norway. Not to mention that the nation felt a really strange, almost dark aura in the man. He wanted to talk to Dumbledore about this, but they were not yet close so he still couldn't trust the old man, no matter how great everyone says he is. Norway really didn't know what to go about this, but sooner or later, he would figure this out.

Sweden was having a hard time as well. Now he has to look after Harry AND Denmark AND Prussia. The responsibilities weighed on his shoulders- and he could do next to nothing because they're not in the same house. WHY hadn't he thought of that? And then there's Finland. His wife's life is a living hell, thanks to that stupid Dane. Though it's not Denmark's fault, the wand he picked did it so Sweden now held a grudge on Denmark. Sweden forced the steak down his throat. Geez, America was right. British food IS the _wurst_...

And then there was the Hogwarts song. Denmark liked it- anyone can sing with any tune they want, so there's variety and uniqueness in each voice, making it very fun to hear each one. Denmark started his by shouting randomly, earning stares from the other students. Iceland, understanding what was happening, was relieved that Mr. Puffin was being transferred with Snowy so the puffin can't interrupt him. The boy started singing with Denmark, and soon, he heard the voice of his totally not older brother rising from the teacher's table. Sweden, too, stood up and sang in his terrifying voice, and Finland joined right in. Soon, all the Nordics were singing Always With You with different lyrics. Prussia, not being able to join in, sat in the corner singing Einsamkeit. Poor Prussia.

They were one of the last to finish, giving the rest of the students enough time to see these four first-years singing with the new professor. It was a strange sight indeed, how they can be perfectly synced. But of course, those clever Weasley twins had the best idea- singing it to a very slow funeral march. After the very beautiful ending, which earned the twins loud claps, they marched to the Gryffindor tower and through a painting of a very fat lady whom Prussia laughed at for looking a bit crappy and was shushed by Percy. The Gryffindor common room is very cosy, but everyone was so full they hardly noticed it. Instead, they wall went to their rooms.

God help Harry, who had to share a room with Matthias and Gilbert. Well, at least he had Ron. Right? Right? And Scabbers, who was going crazy after smelling the scent of Hanatamago in Matthias's hair, but that's better than nothing, right? And, uh, Dean Thomas, a-and Seamus Finnigan...

Upon seeing the room, Matthias jumped on a bed closest to the window and called dibs. Everyone got to their beds and began to settle in.

"Good night." came Gilbert's voice. Harry heard Ron mutter a 'good night' so he also said it and climbed onto the bed.

"No, we should totally be talking."

"No, Matthias, we should sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow and I'm tired." came the reply as Gilbert blew out a candle.

"But come on, it's the perfect night to talk."

"Will you two go to sleep already?" Ron is clearly annoyed.

"That's what I'm trying to do." Harry could see Gilbert roll his peculiar glowing red eyes, though no one else but him seemed to see it. "The Awesome me is getting tired so shut the hell up, Matthias, and go to sleep."

They all went silent, save for Dean's snoring. The wind blew outside, and the moonlight shown through the dark ro-

"OWOWOWOWOW!" Seamus's cry rang through the room. Harry instantly woke up and went for the candle, but Gilbert beat him to it. He lit the wick and the light glimmered to show a...to show a Matthias wrestling Seamus.

"MATTHIAS WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! LET HIM GO!" Gilbert screeched.

"B-but I was bored-"

"SHUT UP AND SLEEP!" The German pulled Matthias off Seamus, who gasped for air and stared at Matthias. Gilbert roughly flung Matthias on his bed and blew out the candle. "NOW LET THE AWESOME ME HAVE MEIN AWESOME BEAUTY SLEEP!"

It wasn't long after he said that, Dean's absolutely terrified screams filled the air. The boy had no idea what it was that was on top of him and is wrestling him-

"MATTHIAAAAAAAAASSSSS!"

Oh. Dean should have known.

Harry saw the candle being lit again, and it showed the somehow very horrifying glowing face of Gilbert, who was frowning very deeply. Without even a word, the albino grabbed a protesting Dane by the hair and threw him on the bed. This time. Gilbert made sure to slap Matthias before blowing out the candle again.

"Good. Night."

Harry felt very annoyed when the candle was lit the third time. However, his annoyance was replaced by complete and utter bewilderment, as it seems that Dean and Seamus finally gave in and decided to join Matthias in his shenanigans. The raged German near him let out an indescribably infuriated noise as the three made what looked like a deformed human pyramid of doom. Illuminati confirmed.

It was not until Gilbert decided to try to kill - I mean, bash Matthias on the head a few times - that Harry finally fell into a dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**(kind of) rewritten chapter**

At breakfast, Prussia had bags under his eyes after the long night of staring at Denmark to make sure he doesn't wake up again. Said Dane had to clamp a hand on his mouth to keep from throwing up all over everyone else, who seemed to be enjoying the food, though Denmark doesn't know why. On his fifth attempt to shove some disgusting British stuff into his mouth, he gave up and settled for an old box of cereal he had stashed in his bag, which had probably been there since the first time he used it. He didn't care, though, and dumped the stale yellow lumps into a bowl and poured in the milk from his cup.

"Matthias, that cereal had been in your bag since my first camping trip with you guys, and that's a long time ago, you know."

The personification of Denmark turned around to greet Iceland.

"Hey, Emil! How are ya?" He waved, trademark grin splattered on his face. The youngest Nordic sighed.

"Fine."

"Aw, you don't miss me, Ic-Emil?" The Dane pouted childishly.

"No, I'm having a jolly good time without you."

"Then why did you decide to come visit our table then?"

"I needed to make sure you brushed your teeth.

Hearing that, Denmark pouted even more. Why are kids these days so mean? He was a older than Iceland, for goodness's sake! Has Norway rubbed off of him? Whatever. He should tell Iceland to sit at his table since the younger nation was here anyway. And maybe the rest of the group too, so the Nordics can be together again, like they intended to be. Too bad Norway was nowhere to be found, Denmark thought as he glanced up at the teacher's table. What is he up to?

"Wanna eat with us? There's room on the table." As soon as Denmark said those words, everyone who heard it stopped, turned, and stared. The other Gryffindors noticed the silence from their friends right away, so they, too shushed each other to hear what Percy had to say.

"What? What did I say?"

"You're supposed to eat with your own house." Prefect Percy told the Dane, who scratched his head.

"Oh."

And just like that, the chattering continued, leaving a blank expression on Denmark's face.

"What kind of rule is that? Why can't friends eat together?" It was Percy's turn to blink. He'd never thought of this before.

"Just...it's just a rule, OK? Don't question it." He was starting to feel uncomfortable at the gaze this Matthais kid gave him. Finally, the Dane broke eye contact and went back his cereal which smelled of something dead. How could he eat that? Percy shook his head and resumed eating his breakfast. Matthias's younger friend - Emil, was it? - shrugged and rejoined the other Hufflepuffs at their table. Percy sighed. The Matthias guy had a point. Why _do_ they have so sit together with their houses?

"Hey, Gil." Denmark whispered, poking his friend on the rib.

"Hm? Prussia looked up from his poorly cooked eggs.

"We're not allowed to sit with Emil, Tino, and Berwald 'cuz they're in different houses. The horrified look on the Prussian's face is incomparable.

" _What?_ "

"Yeah, I know right. Stupid rule." Denmark lifted his face and puffed his chest. "Nordics stick together!" Denmark realized what he had said and clamped his mouth shut when the other students stared at him strangely.

Prussia, though not part of their little group, frowned and abruptly stood up, his plate in his hands. He marched right up to the Hufflepuff table, and the brave guy settled himself right between Tino and Berwald. It was like he was asking for a death wish, Denmark figured, by the evil-eye Berwald gave him. The other Hufflepuff stared at Prussia, gaping. Prussia brushed them off.

"What are you staring at? Oh, wait, ha, I know, yes, I'm too awesome to look away from, but please, don't let that stop you guys from enjoying that _wonderful_ meal of yours." He cringed at the word 'wonderful'. The Hufflepuffs went back to eating, too polite to ask. The Gryffindors on the opposite side of the room, however, are gawking at him. Denmark decided that if Prussia got in trouble, he won't be alone. The Dane awkwardly shuffled to the Hufflepuff table, too, as Sweden picked Prussia up by his shirt and dropped him in another seat so the Swede could sit next to his wife. The Slytherins began whispering about the two Gryffindors at the Hufflepuff table, probably spreading rumors again. Typical Malfoy.

"Wh-mew-what, Pru-mew-I mean, Gil-mew- and Matthia-mew-s?" Yep. Finland is as hard to understand as always. Denmark tried to lean closer, but is blocked by the huge hunk of flesh that is Sweden, so he whispered as soft as a Dane can, but not too soft so Finland would hear all the way at the other seat.

"Nordics stick together."

"Yeah." Finland smiled, and dropped his voice to a barely audible level. "But Lukas -mew-isn't here with us-mew-..."

"But The Awesome Me is!" came that obnoxiously loud voice that everyone loves. Finland giggled. "It's not -mew-the same, but -mew-OK." from the seat across to theirs, Iceland facepalmed. Oh GOD.

"Please, just continue breakfast before-"

Suddenly, there was the sound of a million fluttering wings, and a swarm of birds of all colours, shapes and sized flocked into the Great Hall. It was a beautiful sight, with all the owls flying together in a gigantic crowd, creating a big mass of colours that made Denmark dizzy. Through the hooting ans squawking, he could hear the voice of an amazed Prussian.

"Mein Gott..." Yes, Prussia. Mein Gott indeed.

"-the bell rings." It took a while before Iceland snapped back and finished his sentence, because the birds are incredible. One particular one, though, landed on Iceland's shoulder. He felt the sharp talons digging into his skin as Snowy dropped a letter on the table.

Denmark immediately got hold of it and took out the paper from the envelope. It was a small letter, with only one sentence, "Any sign of our friends?" Iceland understood. A letter from Scotland asking about whether they have found England or not. It took three minutes of Denmark and Prussia staring at the page to recognize the handwriting and put two and two together.

"Wow, I almost forgot what we came here for."

"Seriously, Den- Matthias?" Prussia quickly corrected himself.

"Does anyone here have a quill? Or maybe even a pen?" Iceland asked from the other end of the table. Finland shook his head, but Sweden whipped out a pen from one of his pockets and placed it on Iceland's open palm, only to be snatched away by Denmark. The other Hufflepuff students, who had probably not seen a pen before, stared at it.

"Let me write it!"

"No, I, the Awesome Gilbert, will write back."

"Oh, really, now?" There was a tone of amusement in the Dane's voice. The two then proceeded into trying to capture the letter from each others' hands. Prussia got hold of it and darted under the table and sped across the Great Hall to the Slytherin table, with Matthias close behind. If the Hogwarts students didn't think they were weird before, which is very improbable, well, they think that these guys are definitely unusual now. Matthias grasped the letter with his hand and rolled under the Slytherin table. Eveyone in the Great Hall and all eyes on the two monkeys chasing each other around the room.

At the same time, fortunately for everyone, Norway walked into the room with a cup of coffee in his hands and large black bags under his dull eyes, which widened at the sight of Prussia and Denmark causing a commotion,the nation immediately spat out his coffee and his cup, filled with whatever remained, fell to the group. His eyes twitched dangerously, though no one was sure whether it was from his displeasure (*cough* fury) or the coffee.

Norway took a long, deep breath, and suddenly he was stomping through the hall to the still arguing eleven-year-olds. Everyone stared as he easily picked up the protesting nations by their shirts and dragged them to the Hufflepuff table, where the frightened Hufflepuffs stared as he yanked the letter out of Prussia's hands and placed it on the table. Or more like slammed, because the table shook for a few seconds afterwards. Iceland glared at him, and Norway huffed at his little brother before making his way out the Great Hall, slamming the doors behind him. The amount of times Iceland facepalmed is uncountable, Sweden's dark aura returned, and Finland is- dear God- still hiccuping, but he's actually just attempting to gape. But it seemed that he is not the only one, because the other students are also looking fixedly on the double doors where they last saw the assistant professor.

Harry blinked, and Ron leaned closer to him.

"Even though he's new here, he sure knows how to act first." The red- haired boy eyeballed the other teachers at the High Table, who were too shocked to speak. Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Everyone, you may continue your breakfast. I will go settle this." He then stood up and left the room. Instantly, everyone began murmuring to each other about the two students. Some Hufflepuffs went up to Iceland (they had no other choice. Finland would take ages to say one sentence and it will be very hard to understand him, while Sweden is, well, too scary.) to ask him what had happened, and what the letter said. He made up a convincing lie that a family member wanted them to sign a card for a sick friend, and they Dane and German are arguing over who gets to say 'get well soon' and who has to make up their own thing to wrote. The Hufflepuffs bought it, and went back to minding their own business, though some found it odd that the two would go that far for signing a card. The didn't question it after seeing the look on a certain Swede's face.

Iceland sighed. "Here, let me write it."

" _What do you think you two are doing?"_ Oh boy. There was no mistaken the tone of menace in Norway's voice as he gave Prussia and Denmark the hairy eyeball. Denmark knew better than to talk, but Prussia, being the brave/stupid/awesome one, opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by Norway.

"Causing such a huge commotion during breakfast, don't you idiots know better? It's fine if you ask to sit with a friend, everyone does that, but TO CHASE EACH OTHER AROUND THE FREAKING GREAT HALL AND DISTURBING THE OTHERS ARE YOU INSANE...

Prussia and Denmark glanced at each other as Norway cursed and ranted at them in the deserted hallway.

"I'll take care of this, Lukas." Dumbledora the Explora appeared out of nowhere. "It's not good to scare our students on the first day, now is it?" Lukas still had the menacing look but released the kids, who scrambled behind Dumbledore. Dumbledore sighed. "You may go back to breakfast now, Lukas. You have to teach first thing today." Lukas still looked disagreeable, but he nodded, and his expression turned to the normal cool look. As the assistant professor stepped away and back into the Great Hall, Dumbledore couldn't help but be amused.

 _He's new here, yet so independent and managed to take things into his own hands even though he knows I could have sorted it out myself. He's really something, this Lukas Bondevik._

Meanwhile, Norway stormed into the Great Hall, looking very pissed. _I will kill them when I have a chance._ Ignoring the stares he got from the students and teachers, he took his seat at the High table and began to consume his now cold food furiously.

"Now," Dumbledore turned to the two slightly shivering first years. "What is the matter?" Denmark pushed Prussia in front of him.

"I'LL DO ANYTHING TAKE MY PEACE OFFERING AND DON'T KILL MEEEEEEEE!"

"HEY! THE AWESOME ME WILL NOT BE SOMEONE'S PEACE OFFERING!" he slapped Denmark's hands off his back and faced the headmaster bravely, muttering something about the Feliciano virus is spreading like a disease.

"We wanted to write a letter back to our friends, but the Awesome Me wanted to write it MORE, so therefore he should let me have it."

"NO! I WANNA WRITE IT!"

"WHOSE IDEA WAS IT TO COME-" he almost said come to Hogwarts to find the G8. "Er, ACCEPT THE LETTER ANYWAY?"

"HEY!" Denmark was twelve seconds away from materializing his axe and chopping Prussia's head off, but he restrained himself. But ONLY because it will traumatize Gilbird AGAIN. Denmark didn't want to deal with a crazed yellow bird in his shirt again.

"KESESESESESESESESESESESESESESESESESESESESESESE!" And the two proceeded to fight. Man, these guys are like Sweden and Finland in some sort of way. One moment they're besties and the next, they're not. Great Doitsu. Dumbledore sighed. This is going to take a LOOOOOOOOOOOng time.

Professor Dumbledore entered the Great Hall with an albino and a blond following close behind. It had taken about twenty minutes to get these two to calm down, and classes were about to start. Iceland, Finland, and Sweden were already done eating. It seemed like Iceland had already written in the letter that they have not, in fact, done anything yet because this was still their first day, Goddamn it. When the letter was securely tired to Snowy's leg, she took off into the distance. Iceland watched her leave, transfixed.

Prussia and Denmark sat and ate quietly, and-

Wait.

WAIT.

Prussia and Denmark.

Quiet.

QUICK EVERYONE RUN IT'S THE APOCALYPSE! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Ahem. Anyways.

Prussia and Denmark sat and ate quietly, probably because...uh...British food. Or something. Well, all you need to know is that they sat and ate quietly, alright? There. No questions asked.

And then...Great Doitsu. Class.

Prussia and Denmark decided to walk with the famous Harry Potter- because, well, that's the one reason Scotland actually let them in in the first place. As they were walking though, the three of them being together, well, it received loads of attention. Ron, that lucky guy. Or lucky, according to Harry anyway.

"Hey, look, it's those two idiots who created a commotion at breakfast.!"

"Wonder what they're doing with Harry Potter."

"Oh my God! Harry Potter? THE Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, dark hair and glasses! Fits!"

"And do you see that scar?"

Now Denmark and Prussia are enraged. Denmark, because, the students treat Harry Potter like something you could gawk at at the zoo. It's not fair for him, he didn't even know what he did! Totally wrong. These kids need a lesson. And Prussia was angry because...uh...well, being Prussia. First of all, how _dare_ these guys call the Awesome Prussia and idiot? Oh, they're gonna get it.

Gilbert looked murderous, Harry noticed, but he knew better than to ask.

Oh, yeah, and also this bunch of idiots are more interested in Harry Potter than the Great Prussia himself! Prussia was trying to decide which is wurst. Disrespect for the Awesome Prussia, or not noticing the Awesome Prussia? His left hand would be disrespect and his right hand would be not noticing the Awesome Prussia. And...rock paper scissors. Both hands are paper. Rock paper scissors again. Both are rock. This went on all the way until they went into class, which is not a short time due to the four getting lost. And Prussia wasn't helping, either.

"Hey, which way did we come from?" The first thing Ron said in a while.

"Rock paper scissors."

"Oh my God, Gil. Seriously? A) you can't play against yourself. B) Why are you doing this shite?"

"Shut up, the Awesome me is trying to concentrate." Harry can't help but smile. These two looked close, despite what had happened at breakfast. He wish he had friends like this...always playing around and joking and having fun like a normal person...no worries about a dark wizard trying to end your life...

Ron sighed. How may times did Gilbert and Matthias argue today? And HOW THE HELL ARE THEY GOING TO GET TO POTIONS CLASS? He turned to Harry for answers, but the dark-haired boy had a dreamy look in his eyes. Dear. LORD. Finally, they bumped into Filch, who wanted to know why the heck are they not in class, but when they said they got lost, he didn't believe him. Ron can't understand adults sometimes. They ask for answers, but they don't believe you.

Anyways, back to the problem at hand. Filch got them into class, but it was with Professor Snape, who Harry thought had disliked him. But oh no, Snape didn't just _dislike_ Harry Potter. He outright hated him, and didn't bother to hide it. And Filch wasn't that great either, accusing them of trying to skip class no matter how many times they told him that THEY JUST GOT FREAKING LOST DAMN IT THIS DAMN CASTLE IS THE BIGGEST BUILDING I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY SAD MISERABLE LIFE WITH THE DURSLEYS SO PLEASE LET US CONTINUE CLASS NOW - ahem.

They managed to continue class, but now Snape hated all four of them, and probably didn't trust them. Every time someone else would do something wrong, poor Harry would be blamed, and when even the slightest thing is incorrect, Snape would get on their necks. Finally, Norway, who was assisting him in the class, snapped. For the second time that day, he was seething beyond compare. Denmark, seeing this, nudged Prussia.

"What? Ugh, we're already in trouble. Wha-" He took one look at Norway and shut up instantly.

A very angry Norway stomped to Snape, who, again, was bullying Harry and another girl, Hermione Granger. He was apparently scolding the two for trying to help a boy named Neville Longbottom on making his potions thicker or something, but it's not like Norway cared what the hell he was telling the two. Norway grabbed Snape's shoulder and he turned around, his expression cold.

"What do you want, assistant?"

"I have a name." Norway snarled.

"Well, you didn't interrupt me for this, did you. assistant?" Oh God. Norway reached for his wand, but didn't touch it.

"I demand you to stop abusing these kids. They did _nothing_ wrong." By now, the attention of the whole class was directed to this new professor and Snape.

"Oh?" All Snape's attention was now turned to the other professor. "You, a new assistant professor, _demand me_ to stop using my teaching ways that obviously help these," he gestured to Harry and Hermione. "First years."

"Yes." Norway, despite everything, still held his ground. "I can tell the Headmaster." Snape inched closer to him. So close that he could feel the hot breath of Snape on his neck.

"And why would he believe you?" Naway gripped his wand. "You just got here, and I've been teaching for years. Do you think he would actually take your word for it?"

A low growl escaped from Norway's throat.

Harry watched Professor Bondevik and Snape eyeballing each other like a hawk, both determined not to lose to the other. He could practically see the dark atmosphere... This man actually surprised Harry to an extent. No one was brave enough to challenge Snape, as he was told, and definitely not of their first day. Huh. Bondevik was mysterious beyond mysterious, just like the people whom he considered friends. His eyes turned to Gilbert and Matthias. Gilbert look...the same, because he's Gilbert. But Matthias looked calm. Is it because the fact that he has to deal with a certain Swede every day? Harry wasn't sure but...Matthias's eyes show that he actually _knew_ the man would do this...

After what felt like...forever, Norway finally broke his gaze. He snarled one last time and stalked to his desk, in which he sat quietly, his normal dull expression returning.

Oh, so Harry isn't saved after all...

...

Ah, Friday. Everyone loves Friday, right? Wrong. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Denmark are going to go to hell soon, AKA double potions class with the Slytherins. They all hate Snape, and they, being Gryffindors, they all hate the Slyterins. So what's better than having both Snape _and_ Slytherins in the same class for two periods, right? Everything. Everything is better than this hellhole. So when the Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Denmark entered the Great Hall for breakfast, they were more than surprised to see Prussia sitting there, literally sparkling. He had this goody smile on his face and seemed to be enjoying breakfast (GASP! REALLY? PRUSSIA ENJOYING BREAKFAST? GUYS, I THINK THE WORLD IS ENDING! Oh wait, no, he's just enjoying a potato, and not touching anything else. OK, that seems more like The Awesome Prussia.)

Denmark plopped in a seat, followed by a very confused Harry. So Ron, being Ron, decided to break the silence.

"So, uh, Gilbert."

"Yes?" God, the SPARKLES!

"Well, you seem happy today..." He trailed off.

"WELL OF COURSE THE AWESOME ME IS HAPPY TODAY! IT'S FRIDAY!"

"Meaning double potions with Slytherin." Prussia's shoulders slumped just a little.

"But guess what we're doing today!"

"What?" Hermione was definitely afraid to know.

"GERMAN SPARKLE PARTIES! YAAAAAAAAY!" He could have barfed out rainbows and no one would be surprised. Hermione had never heard of it, so she decided to look it up in the library later, because the library is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. Not goddamn 42 like everyone says. Where the hell did that number even come from anyway? Hermione shurgged, determined to figure it out. In the library. Meanwhile, Denmark's eyes widened.

"OH! I ALMOST FORGOT! EVEN THOUGH I'M NOT GERMAN, FREE FOOD! I'M IN!"

"YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE GERMAN!" The German then proceeded to run around the room screaming. Iceland facepalmed. _Dear Lord..._

Prussia was more excited than usual in Potions, surprisingly. Every time they were out of class, he would go around toughing people's shoulders and telling them to "Shine bright," whatever that means. Hell, he also went around with a large sack of boiled potatoes and trample around the hallways and threw them, and would land himself in a heated argument when someone accidentally treads on one. The students just take it as that's how he normally acts like, so they don't really mind, except for the Slytherins. They would start yelling about a mudblood touching them or something, but Prussia didn't care. Or maybe he would if he knew what mudblood means...but the Awesome Prussia is awesome, so it doesn't matter. This went on for a whole day, with Iceland facepalming every two seconds and once when they ran into Norway, good ol' Denmark was there to distract him; AKA run around screaming "LUKAS IS AN IDIOT!" which resulted in him getting some death threats, but Norway can't do anything harmful while he's at Hogwarts. Norway swore that _one day_ when they finally found the G8 and leave the school, the stupid Dane is going to get the shit beaten out of him.

One day.

At the end of the day, when all the classes are finished, The Nordics (minus Norway and plus Prussia) went to visit Hagrid's hut on the edge of the forest with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Poor Prussia had tried (and failed) to invite everyone to his German Sparkle parties (Hermione spent two hours in the library searching for a book on it but found nothing.) so Harry decided it would be best to calm the German down and take him for some tea at Hagrid's before he goes on a rampage. And when you invite Prussia, you have to invite his friends too. Because why not?

The reached the hut, but even before Harry's hand came in contact with the door, much less knock, loud booming barks came from inside the door. Prussia yelped and jumped into Denmark's arms (Scooby-Doo stlye) while Hanatamago, who was with them, started to bark back. Denmark looked awkwardly at the albino in his arms, while said Prussian cleared his throat and got back to the ground, declaring that he was "too awesome to be held! Why'd ya suddenly pick me up like that?" A rough voice behind the door shouted at something named 'Fang', which, everyone assumed, was the dog. The barking stopped, and a giant opened the door. It was the same person that took them on the ferries, though no one was really surprised (Except Denmark, who let out a loud gasp again) because Harry and this Hagrid guy seemed to be good friends.

Hagrid welcomed them in, and one by one the Nordics (minus Norw- ah you know what I'm gonna say), Ron, and Hermione introduced themselves. Sweden and Iceland stated their names and remained quiet for most of the time, Finland, being the friendly guy he is, started chatting with Hagrid immediately, only to be interrupted by Denmark's dramatic introduction, Hanatamago running outside and into the trees somewhere (and if she wasn't scared of revealing any secrets, she would have shouted at how bad the food this giant dude was giving her), and Prussia's speech about awesomeness. He also, believe it or not, asked permission to throw a German Sparkle Party, and as soon as Hagrid uttered a yes, the entire hut was filled with loud whoops and shouting. The Prussian then pulled some potatoes out of nowhere (don't ask me how, because even I don't know) and started 'spreading the Doitsuism', though Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hargid had absolutely no idea what the hell he was talking about but just for the sake of politeness, kept quiet. Finland managed to retrieve his puppy and went back to the dorms to avoid Fang eating his beloved Hanatamago.

Iceland found a piece of newspaper on Hagrid's table and showed it to Harry, who exclaimed that the Gringotts break-in had happened on his birthday, and Iceland could tell that the boy was contemplating something. Did he know what was taken? Iceland wasn't sure, but made a mental note that it just _had_ to be related to Harry somehow. But before he could think any further, his shoulder was grabbed by Prussia, who was trying to get everyone to sing Always With You together. It wasn't the same without Norway though...

The party ended with Denmark crying from breaking his teeth after eating Hagrid's rock cakes.

* * *

Icealand sighed. It had been a long and quite chaotic first week. He was somehow understanding why Norway wouldn't have allowed him to learn magic until now. Maybe it was to keep him from seeing the weird random shit that a small stick can kill a person. The youngest Nordic lay on his bed in the dark, listening to the soft snoring and occasional snorting of the other Hufflepuffs beside him. Which, he might add, don't actually talk to him after seeing his family. Iceland frowned, realizing that he is lonely, even in a large fucking school with hundreds of people who know magic. Damn.

A barely audible clicking noise sounded from the other side of the room, by the window. If it weren't for his incredibly acute sense of hearing, he wouldn't have noticed it. Without moving so he did not wake up his roommates, he shifted his eyes to the window and saw -

An owl, pure white feathers reflecting in the moonlight, stared back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. When it noticed that he saw it, it narrowed its eyes a bit and immediately turned, flapping his wings and flew soundlessly into the night. Iceland gaped at the spot it had once been. The same captivating beauty, the same all-knowings eyes...was...was that ...what was Snowy doing here?


	6. Chapter 6

Finland showed up to breakfast on Thursday, overjoyed. Apparently, the blond had stopped hiccuping and could now live his life normally- or as normally as a nation's life could get, that is. He had a broad smile on his face as he took his seat next to Sweden and enjoyed his breakfast without constantly choking on everything that touched his mouth.

"We're going to fly today!" Denmark cheered, pumping his fist in the air, as Prussia started announcing how he was going to be the "Most awesome Quidditch player in the world," after hearing about Quidditch from Hermione. Finland was lively since they woke up, all the way until breakfast; and everyone was sure he would be like this throughout the entire day. Sweden, though, showed no interest in flying, and all Iceland could do is dread that something bad might happen when it comes to two hyperactive puppies in their group. Oh, yes, and the feeling of forgetting something had grown.

Prussia sat at- wait, no. Prussia sat ON the Gryffindor table, legs crossed, chewing loudly on some leftover boiled potatoes from last night. Prefect Percy had tried to get him off the table and eat properly and politely, but Prussia just claimed that "The Awesome Me can do whatever the hell I want." It took a while, but eventually Percy gave up and went to eat at the far side of the table. Denmark sat on the opposite side of the table (or what would be if Prussia actually sat on a chair) munching on a bag of chips because that's basically the only thing he has left to eat. Finland kept trying to convince him that the British food isn't that bad **(A/N: Really, it ain't that bad.)** but the Dane was not buying it. He stubbornly refused to eat any of Eyebrow's cooking, along with Prussia.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and That One Guy Who Always Forgets Everything were sitting near the two nations. Hermione had a stack of books by her side, and wasn't touching her breakfast at all. Denmark had told her that flying isn't something that can be learned with a book, but so far, that piece of information went in one ear and out another, it seems. Neville- Oh! Right! That's his name! Neville listened intently to every word that came out of the girl's mouth, but Harry doesn't seem to care, and Ron looked like he was going to explode with boredom.

No time to worry about it now; the mail had come. As usual, Snowy landed on Iceland's shoulder, though today, Iceland gave her a weird look. Besides her unusally ruffled feathers, it was no mistaking it; it was her that was by his window last night. He also noticed that Denmark was staring at Snowy from all the way at his house's table. And slowly, the Dane stood up and trotted over to the Hufflepuff table.

"H-hey, uhm, Ice..."

No-one reacted to the weird nickname because they have gotten used to this specific group of people doing dangerously strange stuff and weird nicknames were nothing now.

"What is it?" Iceland felt relieved when he felt the extremely sharp claws leave his poor shoulder alone. He blinked when the bird hurriedly flew away.

"At night...weren't owls supposed to be flying around receiving letters from relatives and hunt for food or something?"

"Well, yeah." Iceland was confused by Denmark's sudden interest in owls.

"Uhm...I think your owl was slacking off, because when I was trying to sleep last night, I saw her in the corner of my eye, staring at me from the window. I thought she was just glancing at me for a minute, but after about an hour she was still there."

"Wh-what?" Iceland's eyes widened, and Denmark noticed.

"Wait, so she was staring at you too?"

"Yeah, but when she noticed I was looking at her, she flew away, frantically it seems."

Iceland gulped. "Do you know for sure it was her?"

Denmark rolled his eyes. "You know more than anyone about how those feathers are unnaturally shiny. I mean, owl feathers do gleam in the moonlight, but hers seems to be radiating the light."

The words struck Iceland. He had never noticed, but now that he thought about it...

"I...I'll do something about it." Iceland really didn't know what was going on, but he was going to get to the bottom of this.

Denmark nodded. "Find something about it. That odd owl of yours feels a bit different than other owls."

While Denmark and Iceland were talking about probably unimportant stuff, Prussia, disappointed that the awesome him wasn't allowed near _his_ letters, glanced at Neville. The boy pulled something out of a package, presumably something an owl carried to him; it looked like and oversized marble with smoke in it. The smol cinnamon roll of a boy realized that Prussia was staring at him, but before he could explain to the Prussian what it was, it glowed bright red. Neville massaged his head, muttering something about, "Now what did I forget?" Seeing the confused look on Gilbert's face, Harry opened his mouth to tell him about the remembrall, but at that moment, the thing was snatched from poor Neville's hand by the one and only Draco freaking Malfoy.

And apparently Malfoy was deaf and blind, because he gave no shits about everyone protesting and glaring at him.

He examined it, turning it around in his hands, while his goons stopped Neville from getting it back. Unfortunately, before Denmark's fist could come in contact with Malfoy's sickeningly smiley face, good ol' Professor Mac-Gone-And-All came to Neville's rescue (out of nowhere, I might add), ordering Draco to put it down and get his ass back on his seat. Draco huffed and said something about him just looking, but he still received glares from everyone in Gryffindor, especially Ron, Harry, and Denmark. But unlike everyone else, Fred and George had the devilish grin on their faces, indicating that they had just come up with the perfect revenge plan...

And Prussia never knew what the heck that ball is. Or what the heck Fred abnd George's plan is.

...

Denmark was the first person to get outside to their flying lessons, even before the Slytherins. Prussia was close after, with Gilbert clinging, terrified, on his cloak. The bird _could_ fly, but Prussia was going faster than light and frankly Gilbird wasn't in the mood to fly just as fast to keep up or to let Prussia run away without him and he had to look for the Prussian later. The albino halted next to Denmark and started petting a wide-eyed Gilbird, apologizing for the rough journey. The yellow chick chirped and nestled in his hair, making Prussia smile.

"He's so awesome and cute..."

Denmark pointed to the crowd of Slytherins advancing on them, and to their luck, no other Gryffindors in sight. Malfoy was the first to stroll over them and sneered.

"Oh, looks like you're out here all alone, huh? What's that? Did you get lost?" Denmark scoffed at this. Prussia wasn't at all intimidated, because, hey, this is Prussia we're talking about. Gilbird glared at the Slytherin, prepared to attack, but was stopped by the group of Gryffindors in the distant. Which is fortunate for Draco, who was ignorant of the fact that he might have lost an eye. Despite his appearance, Gillbird is very well trained when it comes to battles. Maybe almost just as good as Gilbert.

However, to Malfoy's luck, the rest of Gilbert's friends and a teacher came running over. Looks like the sneaky little bastard wasn't going to get a punch in the face after all.

The Gryffindors hurriedly picked up the broomsticks that lay neatly on the ground, because the teacher who called herself 'Madam Hooch' was quite frankly an asshole and didn't want to deal with the kids being 'slow'. Immediately Denmark regretted not saving his friends a few, because the Slitherins had gotten the best ones. Denmark looked down at his own broomsticks in his hands. He had picked the newest-looking one he could get, and Prussia picked the 'awesome-est."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get on you broomsticks!" Prussia rolled his eyes at Madam Hooch and mounted his broomstick. _Just you wait,_ Prussia thought to himself. _The Awesome Me and the Weasly twins are going to make a great nickname for you_. They were instructed to shout 'Up!' and the broomsticks would fly. It was amazing, really, how magic worked. But Prussia thought he looked a bit silly talking to a broomstick, but hey, this is England, and English people did ridiculously bizarre stuff. Like feeding their kids petrified couch stuffings.

The broomsticks, Prussia learned, were like horses, and they know when you're scared. Prussia, having ridden a trakehner before, saw it as a piece of cake, and easily made shoot up into the sky, up however far he wanted, as fast as he wanted, and suddenly he felt like a professional and experienced broom flier. The rest of the Nordics did the same, skyrocketing into the air, and even doing a bit of somersaults. Being fossil-level old does have its perks. Too bad the teacher stopped them.

Neville, that poor boy, being the clumsy and nervous person he is, might have accidentally made it fly a bit _too_ high. He shot up in the air at the speed of light, and when Madam Hooch shouted at him from the ground, it was too late. The air was filled with the boy's screams as he went higher and higher, and from the distance, Denmark's good eyesight picked out - oh God, he was sliding off his broom. Neville tried to hold on, but his fingers slipped and he dropped from the sky at a high speed. Heart pounding and panicked, Denmark slid under the boy without thinking.

WHAM. Neville hit Denmark right in the stomach. Denmark let out a loud raspy screech, feeling the heavy Gryffindor come in contact with his beautiful slim and perfect body, probably crushing his bones. The pain was unbearable. Denmark, in the dazed state he was, realized that it was probably because he was in a smaller and weaker body. Don't ask him how he formed those thoughts when he felt like he was burning. Luckily, Neville wasn't that hurt as the Dane served as a cushion for him to land on, but Denmark was badly injured, and lay dazed on the ground under Neville, mouth wide open.

Prussia winced. "Un-awesome..." The albino muttered to himself as he stared at his friend, who was writhing and whimpering. It must have hurt really badly to the crazy axe man.

Madam Hooch rushed over to his side, and ordered a very terrified white-faced Neville to get to his feet, and lifted the unconscious Dane up (actually, he was conscious, just kind of dizzy and foaming in the mouth a little) Suddenly Madam Hooch didn't seem like such an asshole anymore as she carried him, probably rushing off to the hospital wing. She looked back for a minute, and shouted over her shoulder and order that no one should let their feet off the ground until she got back.

Not long after she went out of sight, of course the one and only Draco Malfoy had to want to cause more havoc. With a smug look on his face, he frolicked to where Neville had left, and picked something up. It was the ball Neville had that morning, that big oversized marble thing that glowed red. He threw it and caught it with his other hand, a huge smirk on his face.

"Hey, give that back!" Before Prussia could say anything, Harry stomped over to the Slytherin, eyes glistening with rage, taking deep breaths.

"Nope." Draco sneered, lighting the fiery flame of fury Prussia never knew he had in him. He clenched his fist, and snarled through gnashed teeth.

"He said. Give. It. BACK." Even Gillbird opened up his wings, ready to fight when it comes to that, and screeched at the malicious Slytherin.

"And what could you do about it?" Malfoy snorted, which further raised Prussia's temper. Before he could lift his fist and punch the life out of the boy, however, Malfoy was already on his broom, and ascending into the sky, with Harry right behind him. The whizzed through the air, Harry chasing Malfoy with pure determination. The black-haired boy was a natural. He zoomed around on his broomstick gracefully as if he had done it a thousand times, though Prussia knew for a fact that this is his first. The scene was spectacular, and as Prussia would say, awesome. The dissolved nation stood and gaped at the amazing performance Harry was doing, and smirked when he detected the fear and panic in Draco's eyes when he got near.

This was simply incredible, to put it simply. The nations had practice with horses, but my God Harry was great at this. Look, Malfoy's smug expression was wiped off his face. If Malfoy wasn't going to die and blame it on Harry, Prussia would have laughed. The dissolved nation wasn't focusing on Malfoy anymore, lost in thought.

And seconds later, Prussia realized that the ball - whatever it was - had fallen out of Malfoy's grasp. Harry's eyes flickered with alarm for half a second, then he dove straight for the ball. He didn't need to, however, for it landed delicately in Prussia's outstretched hands. Seeing this, Harry slowed down as he reached the ground, the flopped down on his stomach nimbly as he landed, breathing a sigh of relief.

Professor-with-the-ridiculously-long-name came running up to them like a bat our of hell. It was good timing, too, now that Harry was on the ground, safe and sound. The frenzied woman started exclaiming that he could have broken his neck, or broken someone else' neck, or all that stuff. She was really worried, and scolded him for not doing what he was told and staying on the ground. She didn't want to hear a word from the protesting students, and ended up dragging him away, with the Gryffindors helplessly watching as their friend, The Boy-Who-Lived, stumbled after Professor McGonagall into the building. Prussia still clutched Neville's oversized marble in his hands, speechless.

...

"So you're telling me."

Harry nodded.

"That you."

Another nod.

"Are playing in the Quidditch team."

"Exactly."

This information was too much for Ron to process, and his brain took a while to understand the exact words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. So the Weasley boy just stared at Harry with disbelief, his mouth hanging, eyes wide.

"Wow, Harry! So that means you're the-"

"Youngest Quidditch player in a century." Harry finished, stuffing a spoonful of pumpkin pie into his mouth, looking uncomfortable.

"That's great! Congrats!" Matthias, who was let out of the hospital wing earlier, clapped him hard on the back, and he almost spat out his food. He swallowed the entire bite before forcing out a thank you. Matthias rubbed the back of his head, apologizing for almost choking him, which he immediately answered with a quick "It's fine, really."

"AWESOME! Let me announce it!" Gillbert started climbing on the table, no doubt going to stomp on it and scream at everyone the news, but luckily, Harry stopped him.

"Wood told me to keep it a secret. Don't tell anyone." Gillbert pouted, but said nothing else. On his head, his so-called best friend 'Gillbird' chirped.

"Whoa! A cute little bird! What's it doing here?" Out from nowhere, Fred and George appeared behind them., making Ron jump.

"Oh, it seems like you haven't been introduced to mein awesome friend, Gillbird, yet!" Gillbert, despite sounding friendly, shot the twins an evil eye for not knowing about Gilbird in their weeks together at Hogwarts. Well, he couldn't blame them, because Fred and George are usually already in bed or going somewhere else to cause trouble to have a proper conversation with Prussia. It was mostly Denmark who talked to them and the three gave all the teachers nickname. Prussia shrugged, and he, George, and Fred started chatting about the tiny yellow bird. Before their conversation got any further, however, Ron cleared his throat, and Fred and George looked at him and seemed to remember what they came there for. The twins congratulated Harry, and explained that they are the two beaters in the team. Matthias tilted his head.

"What's a beater?" he questioned with a blank expression.

"What, my boi, is the best position in the Quidditch team." The Weasleys went on describing the experience of being beaters, and to say the Dane was excited was an understatement. He was pumped and fully ready to be beaters for the team next year. The twins just laughed at the cute boy and messed with his hair. Soon after, the three were heading to the twins' seats, with Matthias waving back at them to go on eating without him.

"Being beater sounds awesome, but not as great as seeker." Prussia noted, looking at Harry.

But as soon as the three left, however, a less pleasant face showed itself.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Prussia grunted at the Slytherin with the same boring smug look on his face. Harry roasted the blond, though, saying that he looked a lot braver now that he had both his two feet on the ground with his loyal servants by his side. Prussia burst out laughing at the red-faced Draco Malfoy. However, one thing led to another, and the boy challenged Harry to a duel. Immediately, Ron piped up, saying that he would be Harry's second. Malfoy seemed to be contemplating his choice of second, and chose Crabbe. Prussia decided to be a spectator to see how it all worked out.

"Midnight." Malfoy snarled and stalked off, followed by his two sad excuses of friends. Poor Harry didn't know what he had gotten into, but Ron reassured him that all they could do to each other is send sparks. Prussia told him that if Malfoy dare hurt Harry, he would punch the shit out of that guy, which wasn't all that relieving either. When Denmark got back, Prussia informed the Dane all about the duel, and he, too, decided to follow and see what would happen. Besides, one of their purposes to come to this school was to protect the guy anyways, and at the same time find England. It can't be that hard, right?

Right?

* * *

After finishing the last bite of his dinner, Iceland put his fork down - maybe a bit too roughly - and stood up straight. Of course this caught the attention of a certain sniper.

"Ice, what's wrong?" The sweet Fin asked curiously, tilting his head like a dog. Sweden visibly bled from his nose. If Iceland was an outsider, he would totally ship them like the rest of the Hufflepuff house, but they were his family so it felt a bit gross.

"I just..." Iceland failed to find the words. He didn't want to tell them about Snowy just yet.

"I need to check something..." And with that, the mysterious Icelander trailed off and hurriedly trotted away, leaving a confused Sweden and a worried Finland to exchange looks as he parted.

As soon as he left the dining hall, Iceland started to wander in the general direction of the owlery, without knowing exactly where it is. A strange, numb feeling spread across him, and he began to grow lost in his own thoughts as he walked the halls. The experience last night was quite odd, and he had to make sure that it was indeed Snowy who seemingly spied on him and Denmark. The numb feeling in his stomach grew, and his mind started to go haywire as he tried to process what was he was thinking. Of course, not, Iceland, he thought to himself. Snowy was just...she was supposed to receive mail, but...

The more he thought of it, the more he realized that the mail Snowy always brought him were in quite a horrid condition, always torn or dirty. So how...

Iceland stopped in the middle of his thoughts when he realized that he had been walking around so much that he had ended up in front of the owlery door, without knowing. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushed it, which swung open with a low squeal.

The owlery, Iceland found, was quite extrodinary, to say the least. Hundreds upon hundreds of nests filled with birds of every shape and size line the walls, towering over him as the walls were quite high. As expected, it smelled funny, though it was not exactly a bad stench. On the other end of the room, there was a big opening instead of a wall, tall and wide, gaping at him. Iceland assumed that it was probably to enter and leave. In summary, it was majestic, but not as majestic as the phenomenon called his owl Snowy.

Since it was after dinner, Iceland could see that the sky outside was getting dark, so soon the owls will take flight and leave for letters before coming back in time for breakfast. His eyes glanced over the owls, some sleeping, some stirring, and some wide awake and staring at him curiously. He scanned the nests, looking for one specific bird. It can't be that hard, right? Snowy really stood out from the other owls most of the time.

But he couldn't find her. Iceland blinked and looked around the room a second time, this time looking more closely.

Nope, Snowy isn't here, he confirmed.

Confused, Iceland furrowed his eyebrows and stared out into the darkening sky. The once blue hue was slowly turning violet, and the sun, still bright and glowing, slowly began to disappear from the horizon, casting beautiful reds and oranges into the sky. A slight warm breeze made its way into the owlery, ruffling Iceland's hair. He sighed. The evening felt so perfect, so lovely. But what is this feeling of dread in his stomach?


	7. Chapter 7

Prussia felt a small but sharp pain on his forehead. He groaned, and tried to get whatever was on his face off. There it was again, that little peck that kind of half- tickled his forehead. He felt something on his face, with a warm body, but very sharp claws, he presumed. There was something kind of..dry and...is scaly the right word? No...it felt like...talons. The pain on his head felt harder and sharper this time, though only slightly. He groaned again, and reluctantly and lazily lifted his hand out to swat it away. The Prussian was too tired to open his eyes; he was supposed to be getting his awesome beauty sleep, damn it!

But when he was about to hit it, the creature squeaked and bit the albino hard, jolting him awake at last.

"What? What was that? Who did that?" He grumbled, still half-asleep. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gillbird flying frantically to the windowsill, where he sat and stared at Prussia with wide eyes, probably scared that the nation would do something to him. Prussia glanced at the tiny yellow ball of feathers and beckoned the bird closer. Gillbird nervously fluttered its wings and landed on Prussia's finger, still uneasy. There was no way Prussia can get angry with the Awesome Gillbird.

"Aw, don't worry, Gillbird," he whispered, smiling and nuzzling the bird as it let out an apologetic chirp. "I can never stay mad with you..."

"Hey, are you done?" Ron's impatient voice sounded from the other side of the dark room, and Harry shushed him.

"We don't want the others to wake up and question what we're doing." He whispered, then to Prussia, "Come on. Matthias is outside in the common room with Hermione."

"What? She's coming with us?"

"No, she's trying to get him to stay, so at least one of us won't get in trouble."

The three tiptoed out the boy's dormitory and down the stairs, where Prussia caught site with Denmark was chatting quietly with Hermione on one of the chairs. As soon as Hermione spotted them on their way down the stairs, she rose, and so did Denmark, who was in the middle of showing off his lego collection. (Though it didn't seem like Hermione cared; she was too tense about the upcoming duel.)

"What took you guys so long?" Denmark muttered, violently stuffing all the poor lego into a box, which made loud clanging noises and ruined what was supposed to be a drama story with arguing friends.

"We had...problems...waking Gilbert up..." Harry scratched his head awkwardly.

"We shouldn't do this. You'll lose points from Gryffindor, then Slytherin will win, and-" Hermione was abruptly cut off when a certain Dane patted her on the back with a completely chill expression on his face.

"What?" She barked, and sharply slapped his hand away, making him frown.

"Hey, if you don't want to come, don't." He mumbled, intentionally loud enough for everyone to hear. Hermione turned to face the others.

"Don't you care at all? We're going to lost the points I managed to get and Slytherin will win! Why can't you idiots just start realizing for once that rules are made to be followed, not broken!" At this point, everyone ignored every word she said, because come on, rules are meant to be broken.

"Well, let's go then! We want to be the early ones, not the people that that dang Malfoy and his ' _buddies',"_ he emphasized on 'buddies',"are going to wait for!" the overly restless Dane then turned away without another word and headed for the Portrait Fat Lady, exiting the Gryffindor common room, with Prussia close behind, followed by Ron, Hermione, and then lastly, Harry, who made a last check to see if anyone was watching them.

"We shouldn't! We really shouldn't!" Hermione whisper-shouted, her last desperate attempt to get them to go back to bed. No one listened, and she was getting impatient.

"Fine! I'll go back then, and if you get in trouble, it's not my fault!" She whipped around to face the portrait again, but was horrified when she figured that the Fat Lady had gone of somewhere to another painting to chat with her friends. The realization that she was stuck outside hit her like a truck.

"How am I going to get back in?" She wailed, sinking to the floor on her knees in an overly dramatic way, screaming into the heavens with her eyes shut tight.

"Not our problem." Ron growled without looking back. Find somewhere else to go." Hermione looked at the painting, then at the group heading down the tower. She considered her options carefully: One, stay here and get caught by someone, or two, go with the boys, and when they got caught, she would explain everything, that she tried to stop them but they didn't listen. The second option seemed like the best thing to do, so she stumbled up to catch up with them. Denmark, seeing her approach, massaged his forehead with his fingers.

"No." he murmured. "Just no..."

"I'm coming with you" She huffed, slightly tired from her little run.

"No, you're not." Ron growled. She had this confident spark in her eyes, which meant business.

"If we get caught, I'll tell the truth, and I'm not going to be the one they're going to blame."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"For Doitsu's sake, talk quietly!" Gilbert turned around and shushed them, making the both of them clamp their mouths shut.

"I hear something." Harry whispered, signaling for them to stop walking as he peeked around the corner to see whatever was making that weird loud noise that everyone just seemed to have noticed even though it was there the whole time. Harry suspected it was Ms. Norris, but they saw a sleeping Neville, curled up in a ball, snoring, only to jerk awake when they approached.

"Neville, what are you doing here?" Hermione was the first to speak up, as always.

"I forgot the password." Neville replied, getting up.

"It 's got something to do with a hog's nose..." Denmark scratched his head, trying to remember it.

"It's pig's snout, but that won't help now. The Portrait Lady has gone somewhere."

"Oh..."

"You can come with us."Denmark offered, though he did get a couple of glares from Ron.

"Well, you two better not slow us down." Ron grunted, the annoyance evident in his voice. "Now are we going or not?"

As they made their way down the tower, Prussia petted Gillbird, who was resting on his shoulder.

"Hey. Can you please go tell Finland and Iceland and _maybe_ even Sweden to join us?" He said in a hushed tone when he was sure no one can hear him. The bird chirped cheerfully, happy to assist his companion, and flew out a nearby window like a shooting star in the night. It seems like Gillbird had completely forgot about the danger of the creatures running around in Hogwarts grounds...He remembered when Gilbird had been clinging on to him since they got to Hogwarts...eh, it's for the best, right? Right? Gilbird'll...remember about them soon enough and avoid getting killed, Prussia hoped.

Prussia fell back to the tail of the group, with Hermione in front of him. But she, too, fell back in a while, until they were walking next to each other. The bushy-haired girl looked around to make sure that they were out of earshot, and leaned closer to him and whispered,

"Why did you call them that?" Prussia blinked, and realized what she was talking about.

"Oh, that? Nicknames, you know, since we all come from different countries and whatever...don't worry about it, OK?" That wasn't the answer Hermione was looking for, but she shrugged the pushed the question to a dark corner of her brain, hoping she would forget it. There are more important matters at hand. Like losing point from Gryffindor. Or rules. Or homework. Or-

"Whatever you say..." She mumbled to no one in particular and sped her walking pace to catch up with the others, who were already a long way ahead in the corridors dimly lit by moonlight. Prussia also followed her, and even if he won't admit it, he didn't want to be alone in a long, dark hallway where no wind blew. It felt like somewhere convenient to commit murder or something...and even when Prussia is already kind of half-dead and REALLY awesome, he still had his childhood fears, it seemed. As in, like, when he was REALLY young...Prussia had been awesome and shining bright since his early days as a nation.

"Are we there yet?" Matthias groaned, his footsteps shuffling.

"You sound like Alfred." Prussia snickered, gaining himself a stare from Denmark.

"As much as I like the guy, we have nothing in common."

"Right." Prussia huffed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He knows. Everyone in this goddamn fandom knows. Denmark is basically the America of the Nordics.

The group trudged through the empty hallways, where small slivers of light shone through the windows. They cast long, flickering shadows, and if that wasn't enough, the dark clouds outside added to the eerie atmosphere that probably made everyone uncomfortable. They hurried to the third floor, to the trophy room, and started tiptoeing again, anxious about getting caught. Harry had expected to run into someone on the way there, but it seems like they were lucky.

"They're still not here." Denmark murmured when they reached the place where they were supposed to meet.

"Maybe they're too chicken." Ron snorted. "Maybe they realized that me and Harry are too much for them to deal with, and ran away like the cowards they are."

"Possibly." Prussia mused. It _would_ be awesome if Malfoy actually did that. Then they would have something to tease him about.

A sudden noise in the other room made everyone jump, and Denmark leaped into Prussia's open arms. The albino stared at the Dane for a few seconds before frowning and dropping him on the ground with a low thud. Said Dane pouted, and Ron glared daggers at both of them, while Harry started gesturing at them to move.

"Hey, they're here somewhere. Hiding-" It wasn't Malfoy, but the last person they wanted to meet:Filch. "Wait did you hear that, Ms. Norris?"

They had barely managed to escape when Filch entered the trophy room, along with Ms. Norris. Harry hurriedly mouthed at them to run, the panic evident in his eyes. They began to run, but then Neville tripped on his own cloak, and fell right on top of Ron. Ron stubled and tried to get a hold on something, but grabbed Denmark's cloak, and he fell with them - right on the giant suit of armor that had conveniently been placed at that spot. The look on Harry's horror-stricken face indicated that the clanging of the metal was loud enough to be heard from America, and everyone broke into a run to save their dear lives.

Neville wasn't going to be told twice, and he immediately got up and started sprinting, only to be overtaken by Denmark and Ron. He let out a terrified squeak when he saw Filch coming up close behind them, and decided to follow Harry, with the small sliver of hope that Harry knew where he was going. However, he didn't. Harry ran through the corridors randomly with no idea of where he was running to. He didn't even know why he was running anymore, maybe to outrun Filch, or get to a safe place, just do something that won't get them into Dumbledore's office.

The first-years ran as fast as their little legs could carry them, and Harry was getting closer to this door, though his vision is so blurry it was hard to tell, and then -

He collided with something - hard. And whatever it was was like a rock, strong and sturdy, and it didn't move when he hit it. A sharp pain filled his chest, and he staggered a little, trying to regain his balance. He stumbled to a wall to lean on it, hands forming a tight grip on his torso. He coughed a little, his head still spinning, panting, glasses lay shattered on the floor. What did he crash into? Definitely not a wall, or a door. He tried desperately to breathe, to relax and calm his mind down. It didn't work.

"O-oh! Harry! I'm s-s-s-so sorry! A-are you alright?!" The person's voice was male, and squeaky, and it sounded familiar, but he can't put his thumb on it. The person sounded about his age, so he must be a first year too. where did he hear his voice?

"I'm fine..." he managed to choke out, but it was obvious he wasn't.

"I'm s-so sorry!" I-I-I-"

"Do you want to go to the hospital wing?" A deeper voice sounded from behind the person, and that sounded oddly familiar too.

"N-n-no..." He rasped, opening one eye that he didn't realized had been shut tight. He looked up to see another first-year, with short blond hair and violet eyes staring at him worriedly. Or what he though was short blond hair and violet eyes, it was hard to tell without his glasses.

"I said I'm fine..." Harry repeated, as he heard footsteps around the corner, and the rest of the gang was there, also staring at them.

"Tino?" Matthias rushed to Harry's side, and finally Harry remembered who it was. Matthias's friend, Tino. That's his name. And he assumed the person with the deeper voice had a name of something along the lines of-

"Berwald!"

Welp. Matthias had said it for him. Harry though for a second that it was Borwell or something.

"Wow. What happened here?" Gilbert kneeled down next to Harry's glasses and picked them up for him. Good ol' Gil.

"I-it was an accident! H-h-he was r-r-running so fast, a-and he bumped into m-me!" Tino stammered, sounding like he was about to cry. The boy quickly pulled out a small hankercheif from his pocket and began to wipe at the bloody nose that Harry hadn't noticed.

"It's OK...really..."Harry insisted, but he knew no one believed him due to his heavy breathing. Gilbert handed Harry's glasses to Hermione, who muttered a spell under her breath, and it was back in one piece, new as ever, as if nothing had happened. Tino's shaking hands took the glasses from Hermione, and carefully positioned it back on Harry's face. Harry blinked, then lifted his head up to see worried Tino's face, but a slightly clearer version. His mouth was opening and closing, but no sound came out. The Hufflepuff just stood there staring at him with an apologetic look. A small black and white kitten, which looked really stressed and traumatized for life, rested on his shoulder.

"I'm fine! I really am!" Harry managed to choke out again, coughing a little. Tino still looked unconvinced, and kept stammering and apologizing. It was a mystery to Harry, how Tino looked so small and...nervous. He was almost like Neville, though Harry wasn't sure whether he was forgetful or not. But still, hitting him that hard...he felt like a solid brick wall. When Harry collided into him, he stood still, when he was supposed to go flying backwards. Was he that strong? How? Harry shuddered. Did he want to know how Tino almost killed him?

Harry made a mental note to ask later, though he didn't know whether it would come off as offensive or not. Maybe he should as Hermione. She always seem to know everything. But later. Not now. They had bigger problems on their hands right now. Like Filch. Or that ghost that popped up and was about to-

Wait, what?

"Aw, icle firsties out of bed at this hour?" Oh no. Peeves. Why now? Why? Harry couldn't decide which is worst: Peeves, Dudley, or Malfoy. Speaking of Malfoy...that jerk led them into a trap! He tricked them into coming here, and must have hinted Filch! That damn bastard!

"You shouldn't be here, ya know." Peeves giggled as he floated above all of them, the familiar wicked grin forming on his face, making everyone cringe, and Matthias started swearing.

"You guys are going to get caught."

"Not of you don't tell anyone." Ron huffed, crossing his arms. All the first-years' eyes followed Peeves as he flew down until he came face-to-face with Ron, so close that their noses almost touched. Ron backed away in disgust almost immediately, and Peeves's hands went on his stomach, and the ghost started chortling like a crazed hyena.

"And you think I wouldn't?" He heaved through the laughter. "Really?" At this point, Hermione again got to her knees in an overly dramatic pose, and suddenly there was a spotlight shining on her. She put her hands together, and stared at Peeves with the puppy dog eyes. Harry swore he could hear some tense emotional music playing from somewhere. He realized later that it was Gilbert, who had magically (literally) pulled out a flute from nowhere and began playing it. It somehow fit the scene perfectly.

Peeves just stared at both Hermione and Gilbert with this weirded out awkward look on his face, then he cleared his throat. He looked up to the heavens (otherwise known as the ceiling) and he put his hands on both sides of his wide open mouth, preparing to yell.

"No. Don't. Or I will kill you." Matthias warned, but it fell to deaf ears.

"OOOOOOH FIIIIIIIILCH! FIRST-YEARS! FIRST YEARS OUT OF BED! FIRST-YEARS HERE IN THE CHARM CORRIDORS! COME ON! DON'T BE SHY! GET YOUR FIRST-YEARS HERE! THEY'RE 99% OFF! FIRST-YEARS! GET YOUR FIRST-YEARS HERE NOW, BEFORE I DO! OR MAYBE BEFORE WE RUN OUT, THERE ARE PROBABLY GOING TO BE A LOT OF CUSTOMERS HERE BY NOW!"

Everyone covered their ears from Peeves's way too loud and obnoxious voice. Some of them may or may not have bled a little, but it was hard to tell from the dark. But it may just be Harry's bad vision, but he kind of saw some dark liquid oozing out from Tino's dog's ears. Harry won't be surprised if he knew for sure that it's actually blood, because I think that we can all agree that Peeves's shout sounded like the mating call of a strangled cow/cat/crow/toaster hybrid thing that hadn't drunken anything for days. That description sounded highly accurate, actually.

The alarming sound of Filch's rapid footsteps were getting louder, indicating that he raced as fast as he can when Peeves had screamed. Harry's heart skipped a beat, and at the same time he felt soft fingers grasping his wrist, and suddenly he was dragged towards the door, his feet stumbling and almost tripping. He turned around to see Hermione, her teeth gritted as if to say, "Get up yourself, poopbrain."

Harry wobbled to his feet, and started to follow Hermione, who was strangely calm, along with all his other curious friends. They crowded around the giant wooden double doors, each person trying to see over the head of another to see what Hermione was doing. She tried to open the door; it was locked. She frantically tried to turn the knob again, but to no avail. Matthias gently shoved her aside, and started banging on the door, though it looked like he was…holding back? He didn't seem to be using his full strength, yet he made some pretty loud bangs.

The footsteps were getting closer, and they could hear Ms. Norris's meows. Everyone started panicking, and Hermione fumbled with her robes and pulled out her wand. She closed her eyes, as if trying to remember something. She tapped the lock, then-

"Alohomora."

There was a clicking sound, and the door gently and slowly swing open.

"Quick! Everyone, get in!" A huge wave of students all tried to get in at the same time, pushing and shoving, Neville fell down once, then hurriedly got back to his feet and nimbly slipped inside. They were whisper-shouting, each telling the other to stop pushing or to hurry up and get inside. Finally, when the entire group got in, Hermione loosened her grip on the door and stepped inside, shutting the door just in time as she heard Filch rounding up the corner.

Harry let out a sigh of relief when he just realized he was holding his breath the entire time. Tino clutched Berwald's hand, his breath shaky, and Hermione leaned on the door, breathing heavily. Matthias was panting, his arms supporting him and his hands rested on his knees, his body bent down and his head hung low.

"Ok- Okay, now - we wait – for Filch to go away - then we dash into our rooms." He weezed, his hand reaching for the wall, for it seems that his knees weren't enough.

"Oh- oh my God – Great Doitsu - that was close. So unawesomingly close. Too close." Gilbert gasped, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He get a few more gulps of air, then turned to Tino and Berwald.

"Did- did Gilbird…" He didn't finish his sentence, knowing that they got the hint.

"Yeah. He's here." Tino reached inside Berwald's cloak and pulled out the small, trembling bird, and handed it to Gilbert. "Hanatamago kept trying to eat him, so we had to keep him somewhere."

"Oh- oh, thank Doitsu." He sighed, and held the bird up a little higher just as Hanatamago jumped and barked, obviously trying to catch it. Harry watched the whole scenario where Gilbert tried to get Gilbird away from Hanatamago, holding him up higher or dodging or trying to keep the puppy away with his foot, losing his balance. Gilbird, it seems, was too petrified to fly away, so he instead dug his talons into Gilbert's hand, making him let out a silent scream. The albino waved his arms frantically trying not to fall while Hanatamago took the chance and leaped again, this time pulling a couple of tail feathers. It was especially funny to watch, especially with Filch cursing (the non-magical kind) at Peeves, who tricked him yet again to say please. It almost made Harry comfortable and relaxed. Almost.

"Yes, what is it, Neville?" The boy had been tugging on his sleeve for a while now, and it's starting to bug him. Neville said nothing. He just stared at Harry with wide eyes, and pointed a jerking finger behind him. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a bit of raised an eyebrow, then looked over Neville's shoulder to see what he was scared o-

No.

NO.

Horror struck Harry like a train going at full speed. He gaped, his eyes almost popping out of the sockets, at the enormous dog that fit the entire room – or corridor, that is. This place that they were in; it's not a room. It's a corridor. THE corridor. The one on the third floor that they weren't allowed to set foot in, and now it was clear why. The dog. The gigantic beast hairy beast, with three heads, six eyes all pointed at them. Its mouth curled into a snarl, and a thunderous growl escaped from it. It seems that finally, everyone else had noticed it too, and they all stood together, gawking at the breathtaking (literally) view of an open jaws of a humongous canine.

Harry could see it, and the last thing he wanted was the close up perspective of rows of giant yellow teeth, will all that drool dripping down the jawline, and the breath of what smelled like…something really unpleasant. Harry's heart was practically banging to get out from his chest and grow legs and run away from this horrible thing that life had bestowed on him.

Harry shut his eyes tight as the dog lowered itself, its jaws wide open, ready to gulp. This is the end, he realized. There was no way of getting out of this. He can't run; his feet won't budge. They're stuck to the ground, frozen in fear. This is how he was going to die. He won't be the hero everyone expected him to be; instead, he'll get his head torn apart. Something flashed before his eyes. A vision. Of him. Him, lying dead on the ground of the corridor, thick, scarlet blood pooling around him. Other bodies. His friends. They're all going to die here. Together.

His hands began trembling about as much as the floor beneath him when the dog growled. His breath was caught in the middle of his throat, and his body felt light and numb. It was as if his nerves understood, understood the satiation and decided that it won't be worth it anymore, that his life would end here and that was that. It was sad, really. He won't complete the goal he lived for. Lord Voldemort won't be defeated, and instead would get stronger until the entire world will perish. And it was all his fault. Because he was foolish enough to let this happen. He would choose Filch over this any day, but it seems that now was too late.

The dog was ready to strike. Harry didn't want to die, not just yet, but he had no choice. He didn't want to see himself, or any of his friends meet a terrible end. He eyes squeezed even more tightly, even though they were already closed. This is it. In just a moment, it's all going to be over. He won't even feel the pain; it would come fast, he hoped. Any second now. The dog's breathing ruffled his hair. It was so close that just a little inch further and they would have touched. The rancid smell of it filled his nostrils, and he held his breath. He did not want to experience this. He did not want this. The thought of dying was too much for his little brain to handle.

It never came.

He heard the creature moved, the floor shaking as it backed away. More growls, but still no death. What is going on? Why isn't it doing anything? He half-opened his eyes a little, just for a tiny peek. The dog had shrunken deeper into the corridor, or at least as deep as it could go. It sank down to the ground in a crouch, then all three heads lifted up and the six eyes were wide open. They were those kinds of eyes that held a past, a deep past that will get you lost whenever you look at it for too long. Those eyes stared at Harry, stared straight into his soul. Or he thought they stared at him. They were so massive it was hard to tell.

Then, it did something unexpected. It was so unbelievable that Harry's heart literally skipped a beat, and the room was filled with uncomfortable silence.

The dog started _whimpering._

 _Whimpering._

All three heads started letting out the pitiful sounds of a puppy not being petted. The ears drooped until it might as well have reached the floor. Harry's jaw dropped so much that just a little bit more and it would have come in contact with the ground. This monster had more than one chances to attack, but instead chose to do _this_. It was hard to wrap around your mind.

Thoughts whirled inside Harry's mind, as if his brain has been flipped upside-down with one of those flipping things that the Dursleys used to cook their eggs. Something churned inside his stomach, as if it too can see and was so astonished that it forgot to digest his dinner but still moving it around. Harry blinked. The dog was still in the corner whimpering. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, and blinked again. He was sure now that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. The dog really was scared of something.

But of what? What is the dog afraid of? Is it Harry? Did the dog understand that he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the one that defeated Voldemort? Did it know, somehow, that he wasn't supposed to be killed? But that's impossible! But then again, they're in a place where magic existed but…that's not it, right? Even if the dog knew, it wouldn't be scared! It would let them go, not cower in the corner! So what was making it terrified?

Harry's eyes darted to the dog's eyes again, and followed its sight. Yes, it was staring at their little group of first-years. Why would it though? Why would it stare at them in that manner? Unless there was something behind them…

Harry whipped his head around. No, still no one besides his friends and the Hufflepuffs he (literally) ran into.

Wait a minute.

The Hufflepuffs.

He glanced at them, Tino, clasp in the strong arms of Berwald.

Oh.

OH.

That's it!

It all made sense now!

That glare…that glare that Berwald was giving it…no wonder. Any sane creature would be terrified out of its mind. Maybe it was just Harry's vivid imagination, but he swore he could see…a very, very dark…aura…darker than the corridor itself...being emitted from the Swede…Harry shuddered. Even with an emotionless face, Berwald always tend to be…intimidating. It was like he was death itself, staring at you in the eye, and though it had no smile or frown or any sort of expression at all, you can still see that it can take your life in a blink of an eye.

His breath faltered, and he could see Ron look back and forth from the dog to Berwald, his mouth open as wide as Hermione's eyes. Tino looked like he wasn't enjoying being in this very uncomfortable position, and Harry couldn't blame him. If Hermione and Ron can scare someone out of their wits just by looking at them, he would have very awkward meals in the Gryffindor table. Harry took a glimpse at Neville, who was as white as a ghost, with what seemed like a certain puppy in his arms. He stood perfectly still and rigid, as if scared that if he moved something would happen.

"Go." A single word escaped Berwald's mouth after a long silence, laced with venom. Harry took a deep breath, and everyone just looked at him, not moving. They glanced at each other nervously, as if silently deciding whether they should or not. But it seems that Berwald doesn't like telling you twice.

"GO." He hissed, this time his words fill with more dreadful, and with a squeak, Neville plopped Hanatamago, who was rigid and shivering, into Tino's hand, and took off at the speed of light. The others looked at him for a bit, and followed him. Now only Harry, Tino, and Berwald were left in the room. He looked back at them one more time, with Berwald still holding the dog off, and he too sped off as fast as his feet can carry him.

Harry sped through the corridors, skipping steps on the stairs, and ran until he thought his lungs were going to pop out of his chest at any moment and burst into flames. They didn't, but he was tired, so tired, but he pushed on, and didn't stop until he got to the Fat Lady. There, he came to a halt, and leaned on the wall, panting madly.

"What are you doing out here so late?" The Fat Lady asked, her face scrunched up in confusion. "Just a few minutes ago, some others got in too."

Harry, not in the mood to answer, waved his hand, muttering, "Pig's snout, pig's snout. Let me in." Which sounded like a chant, actually. There was no time to think about it now, though. He climbed through the portrait, and landed hard on one of the cushions in the common room, trying to get his breath back to normal. Beside him, Hermione sat there massaging her temple as if she's still taking the information in. Ron was in a chair nearby, looking around wildly as if expecting something to suddenly popped out and eat them. He saw the tail of Neville's cloak disappear into the bedroom, while Matthias whispered soothing words to him. Gilbert was clutching Gilbird protectively in his hands, though not shaking. In fact, Gilbert didn't look terrified at all.

"How could you be so calm?" Ron turned to Prussia and asked him, still disturbed by the encounter. Prussia shrugged, and continued playing with Gilbird.

"I've seen worse." Ron stared at him with a disbelieving look on his face.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Wow." Hermione joined the conversation, sitting up. Prussia shrugged again. The dog wasn't that scary, really. Nations can't die unless all the population is gone or whatever, and besides, Prussia is already dead. Actually though...the second point conflicts with the first...Whatever. The point is, Prussia wasn't scared of dying. The only reason why he was petrified back in the corridor is because IF THAT DOG THING DARED HURT GILBIRD THEN EVERYONE SHOULD PREPARE TO FACE THE WRATH OF THE AWESOME NATION WHO WAS BORN TO FIGHT, PRUSSIA! Oh, and a crazy axe murderer also known as Denmark, and the one viking who looked like a cinnamon roll and the other viking who looked less like a cinnamon roll, but that's not the point.

"But seriously though." Ron slouched in the chair, crossing his arms. "That dog needed a walk."

"Ron, don't joke like that." Hermione huffed. "Why would Dumbledore put that thing there though? It's dangerous on school grounds!"

"I think it was guarding something." All heads turned to see Denmark jumping off the last step on the stairs from the boy's rooms.

"What could it possibly be guarding?" Harry wasn't really pay attention much to anything else other then those...sharp...teeth... And judging from Ron's look, he also had no idea where that conclusion came either.

"You two are so unobservant!" Hermione scolded. "It was clearly standing on a trapdoor or something!"

"Yeah. It was a trapdoor. Neville saw it too. He mentioned it to me before he fell asleep."

"But what was it guarding though? And from whom?"

As the conversation continued on, Harry pored over the details in his mind. Someone breaking in Gringotts, the package that Hagrid got, and this dog. Somehow, it all fit together. Harry had no idea where the though came from, but maybe...just maybe...whoever broke into Gringotts wanted the package, as it said on the newspaper that whatever they wanted had been retrieved on that day. And maybe..whatever the package was...was the thing that the dog was guarding. It all fit together perfectly. He can't be too sure though.

"I'm going to bed." Hermione announced, and quickly left the room, muttering something about almost getting expelled or something. They watched her leave, then Ron suggested that they did too, if they wanted to have breakfast (Which, at the mention of breakfast, Matthias paled, and stammered out something like, "I-I'm fine w-w-with missing...breakfast...") They all trotted up the stairs together, said there good-nights, and Gilbert blew the candle.

That night, Harry didn't sleep at all. He was too thinking about that tiny package from vault seven hundred and thirteen.


	8. Chapter 8

**Last time...**

"Hey, Su-San."

"Hmm?"

"Well, they're gone now...can I pet him?"

"Mm." Sweden, still glaring at the dog, stepped away from it to let Finland get close to it. Finland dropped the still terrified Hanatamago into Sweden's arms and cautiously stepped forward. The dog's ears drooped, and six eyes widened. It pressed itself against the wall harder, no doubt trying to get some distance away from Finland.

"It's OK, little puppy. I just want to pet you." Finland whispered gently. The dog was in no way little, and in no way a puppy, but hey. Finland's a sniper. He ain't scared. He reached out an arm. The dog stared at it, afraid to move. Finland touched its head a little bit. It flinched, but allowed itself to be petted by Finland after seeing the look Sweden gave it. Finland began using his whole hand, and soon, he was scratching one of the dog's muzzle. It was a gentle pet, like a massage, and the dog slowly relaxed itself. It closed it eyes and let out a sound similar to a purr, seemingly enjoying itself.

Sweden watched the exchange between the dog and his wife, and suddenly a big pit of jealously filled his stomach. Why wouldn't Finland pet him too? Thinking about this is frustrating, so the Swede decided to end it.

"We have to go to bed now." Sweden's voice was as monotone as ever.

"I guess you're right." Finland stopped petting the dog, and it stared at him with sad eyes.

"Sorry. We have to go." Finland apologized, and turned to leave. He heard whimpering, and looked back at the dog. He smiled softly, and went back to give each large head a good last pet, with Sweden waiting patiently by the door. After they were done, he walked out the double doors, and chanted a spell to re-lock it. Sweden and Finland walked together, side by side, through the corridors and to the Hufflepuff tower.

* * *

"Mail! Mail! Bootiful, bootiful mail!" Prussia hollered, as thousands and thousands of majestic birds zoomed in the room, delivering the mail. It's still amazing to look at, even after all the times that they've seen it. Snowy, as usual, landed on Iceland's shoulder. Iceland was still very suspicious of the owl, but for now there were more important matters, judging from the fact that there was a letter from Scotland. It was quite strange that the letter seemed to be a bit...torn, and tampered, but it was probably a rough journey for an owl traveling from where ever Scotland was to Hogwarts, so Iceland didn't think much of it.

Prussia lunged for the letter tied to Snowy's leg, but Denmark beat him to it and took the letter first. The Prussian huffed and crossed his arms while the Dane opened the noticeably wrinkled piece of paper.

 _Did you guys find anything yet?_ was all it said, in fancy cursive writing. It seemed that there was bits of ash smeared on the paper - probably because Scotland smokes too much.

All the nations exchanged looks that all obviously meant, _Shit, we forgot what we came here for, didn't we?_ Everyone was so caught up with work and classes and the drama at school that they completely forgot about locating the G8.

"Well..." Finland started, but trailed off into mumbling.

Both Iceland and Berwald frowned, and they both looked up at Norway, who was at the teacher's table as usual. Judging by his expression, Norway, with his great eyesight, had figured out what was going on and is feeling slightly guilty as well.

"Hey." Denmark started. "I know I'd never say this in any other situation...but we should go the the library with Hermione after classes today, dontcha think?" Prussia gave his this weird, befuddled stare and seemed to inch a bit further from the Dane. Iceland just eyed him curiously.

"That's so unawesome." Prussia complained, wrinkling his nose.

"Are you feeling OK? Do we need to take you to the hospital wing? I think you just lost your sanity."

"No I didn't." It was Denmark's turn to give Iceland a weird look. "I have it stored in a jar somewhere in our room."

And then there was awkward silence.

For ten seconds.

It took a while for everyone to process what they had just heard.

And it seems that the Dane was being serious.

More awkward silence.

...

"Whoa? What's that?" Denmark shattered the perfect silence (Iceland groaned) and eyed a gigantic parcel, being carried by several very tired looking birds. The owls flapped their little wings as hard as they can, and exhausted, dropped the thing on the Gryffindor table. There were a couple of curious stares from everyone, and Denmark can see in the distance that Harry opened a letter that accompanied it.

"What..." Prussia narrowed his eyes. He can hear them talking (nation senses) and it was a...Nimbus Two Thousand?

"What's a Nimbus Two Thousand?" Denmark wondered, as he saw Harry and Ron whispering a bit before leaving the Hall.

"Huh. I wonder what that's about."

"Good morning!" Finland chirped as he chose a seat, Sweden still forever next to him with that dark aura.

"What took you guys so long to get here?" Iceland asked, putting down the glass of orange juice he was sipping from. He wasn't feeling hungry at all, actually. In fact...he didn't feel really well, to be honest. There's a growing feeling in his gut that he had forgotten something, but he couldn't quite put his hand on it. Oh well. It will disappear soon, hopefully.

"Well, er..." Finland started.

"Don't." Sweden cut him. "There are others here. We shouldn't talk about it." Iceland leaned closer to him and whispered,

"Is it about wherever you went with Gilbird?"

"Mm."

"Tell me when we're alone in our room."

"Um...did we find England yet?"Finland suddenly blurted out, changing the subject completely. He laughed nervously, definitely trying to get everyone talking again, and holding up the mail that Scotland had given them.

"No."

"No sign of any of the G8?"

"Nope."

"Still didn't learn a way to locate the G8?"

"Not yet."

"So we did nothing since we got here."

"Well. We have a lead now. Let's check the library. We'll get answers."

"Actually, we DID manage to spread Doitsuism..."

"Prussia, that's not our main goal here. Heck, it was never our goal in the first place."

"Well, Harry's still alive. That's something."

And yes. Prussia actually managed to spread Doitsuism.

Don't worry. No one spiked anyone's drinks.

You see, German sparkles are on Fridays. And on Fridays, it's the last day of school before Saturday, and after a long day of waiting for it to be over, everyone's exhausted. So they all have giant books in their bags and stuff for homework, and it's tiring. Everyone needs to rest their brains before tomorrow, where they will spend most of the day doing homework. Everyone just needs something to do to relax and stop stressing. And they come across the German sparkle parties in the Great Hall (Hagrid stopped letting them throw parties in his little hut). Now, all the students would want to join, right? It's a party, time to have some fun. And it happens every Friday, and every time more and more people show up. It got to the point where some of them actually converted. After a while, way more people got dragged into the hell called Doitsuism. **There is no escape now.**

And that, my friends, is why Prussia is so popular and respected, for bringing them to awesomeness called Doitsuism.

"Oh, by the way!" Finland squeaked, interrupting their conversation. "We ran into Lukas in the hall earlier today, when he seemed to have left his seat for some 'muggle' coffee. Professor McGonagall isn't feeling well, so he'll be teaching us! It's his first time teaching the first-years!"

"Hooray." Iceland snorted, rolling his eyes.

"I have a feeling this is going to be a useless filler chapter that has nothing to do with the plot at all and it's here just to remind everyone that Norway is still here..." Prussia muttered under his breath. Everyone heard him anyways, and looked at him weirdly. But they had seen it a couple of times already, so the just tried their hardest to ignore it, but Iceland is still casting him strange glances as the conversation went on.

"I wonder what he'll teach us." Denmark wondered, unknowingly stuffing a spoonful of food into his mouth. Yes, that's right, folks. Hogwarts food. British. But the Dane didn't notice, and was already halfway into swallowing before realizing it. His eyes widened and he choked, hitting himself on the chest to force the last bits down, coughing like he was going to die. All the Hufflepuffs looked at him worriedly, but relaxed when Iceland punched the shit out of his back.

"You actually chewed it." Iceland stated as Denmark washed down the last bunch of it down his throat with water.

"Well...it wasn't as bad as I expected."

"Then why did you start choking?" Iceland raised an eyebrow.

"It was shock that I actually ate it and enjoyed it." He answered, and everyone facepalmed.

Back in the Gryffindor table, Ron was a bit distracted by something.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked, and Ron snapped his head back to meet her. He scratched the back of his head, glancing nervously at the Hufflepuff table.

"Well, remember when the Sorting Hat told me to look after Matthias?"

"Yeah..."

"Yeah. And from what I've heard, he hates the food here. So I was a bit worried when he actually ate something."

"It's probably nothing." Hermione assured him. "He's just getting used to it. After all, he can't survive the entire year here without eating."

"I suppose..." Ron mumbled, still uneasy.

"What I'm worried about are your brothers, Ron." Harry piped up suddenly. "They have these smiles on their faces."

"They do, do they?" Ron sneaked a peek at them suspiciously. Sure enough, those two were in a deep conversation, but had these shit-eating grins that stretched so wide that their lips almost went through their cheeks and touched their eyes.

"Wonder what they're up to..." As son as Harry uttered those words, Fred and George turned around and met his eye. The smiled even wider, if that was possible, and with their arms slung over the other one's shoulder, they trotted up to area to meet them. Ron had this suspicious look on his face as they drew closer, and Hermione's fingers tightened around the edge of the chair when she saw three faces follow behind the Weasleys, Draco and his goons. She narrowed his eyes, and Harry glanced uneasily at them, unsure of what to do next.

Fred and George reached them first and put their hands up to wave, but before a 'hi' came out of their mouths, Draco got to them too, and Crabbe and Goyle roughly shoved Fred and George aside. They flailed their arms, trying to gain their balance as they skidded across the floor. Fred let out a yelp, and his hand clasped around the tablecloth of the Gryffindor table. Before Harry's mind could process it, Fred had tumbled to the ground on top of George with the tablecloth still gripping the tablecloth. It was dragged down with them, and so was the food. Everything went soaring into the air as the tablecloth flew around like the cape. Gryffindor girls shrieked and covered their heads while eggs and bacon and ham and chicken drumsticks flew straight above, the orange juice looking like a miniature tsunami wave.

For a second, Harry's heart stopped as he scanned everyone's meals hovering above them, his mouth wide open, but no sound came out. Then, everything stopped happening in slow motion (though no one knew when the slow motion started, but it did) and the food went crashing to the floor, on all the Gryffindor students' faces, on the table. Harry felt something wet on the left arm of his cloak, and soon discovered that it was the milk the Dean Thomas had put down on the table just before Fred grabbed the tablecloth.

Extreme silence fell upon the Great Hall. All eyes were fixed on the Gryffindor table, mainly on the two fallen twins covered entirely by a great white sheet filled with food stains. The other Gryffindors weren't looking much better either. Everyone was at least covered in some drink, or had uncooked egg yolks dripping down from strands of their hair. The girls looked disgusted beyond disgust, while the guys blinked, still trying to figure out what just happened.

Fortunately for everyone else and unluckily for Draco, it seemed that his plan failed, as he, too, had his cloak soaking in some creamy soup that Parvati Patil had been enjoying before the Great Spill. He hurriedly tried to wipe everything off, but of course, that did not work, and further smeared the mashed potatoes around this cloak. So at least now he was in an equal state as the Gryffindors, and wouldn't have that much to tease them about. Thank Doitsu. (Harry realized that he just said Doitsu, and mentally gave himself a weird look. Gilbert is infecting him.)

"What is going on here?" Snape had strolled to the table, unnoticed, and is now staring at the lump of white stuff also known the Weasley twins. He looked REALLY pissed, but for some reason there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Fifty points off from Gryffindor." He snarled, his voice filled with malice.

"WHAT?" All the Gryffindors shrieked, and Fred, who had managed to pull of the tablecloth from his face, looked mortified.

"Sir, it was an accident-"

"Go clean yourselves." He snarled, shutting Lavender Brown up instantly. No one wanted to face Snape when he was angry.

"What are you waiting for? GO" He growled, and everyone immediately started to get up and trod up to the Gryffindor tower. Ron hissed, and rose from his chair, his eyes glistening with hatred. He opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione lightly punched him on the head and dragged him with her, exiting through the double doors. Harry could see Matthias standing up, eyes wide, probably deciding whether or not to come with them. It was confirmed when Snape shot him a glare, and rudely gestured to the Gryffindors, who were already clearing out the Great Hall. Matthias frowned, and trudged over to the group, dragging a very annoyed German behind him.

Snape's attention turned to him, and he immediately broke eye contact, and followed the other Gryffindors out the room, afraid to stay any longer. He felt Snape's eye staring into his soul, and he moved on, trying to resist the urge to turn back and give Snape a good punch. He did look back, though, and saw that Malfoy didn't get into trouble, and was let off easily. That jerk.

...

"Aaaaah...I feel more refreshed now." Matthias calmly stepped out from the shower, sighing and stretching. His hair was dripping wet, and he had a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, and his chest was glistening with water (Harry was sure that if he went out the dormitory like this, all the girls would swoon. Except he can't be older than eleven or twelve, so it was quite a strange thought. Harry could almost imagine an older version of Matthias) The Dane shook his head, and water droplets went in every direction.

"Ugh. You're getting the Awesome Me wet again. Put some clothes on." Gilbert grumbled, throwing some fresh clothes that he had dug out from Matthias's trunk a while ago at his face. Matthias reached out his arms and caught most of it (half the shirt dangled down almost toughing the floor.)

Meanwhile, Harry was examining his new broom. He honestly didn't care about Matthias and Gilbert seeing it; they weren't the types to be jealous. Gilbert was the kind of person who was awesome and that's all he ever does, while Matthias was...Matthias. Harry was sure he had more amazing things in that small bag he kept under his bed.

"Whoa. What's that?" Matthias, who had thrown the clothes back at Gilbert's face, had crept up behind Harry, unnoticed. Startled, Harry jumped and the broom slipped out from his had. It flew to the ground with a low thunk, and rolled away, towards Gilbert.

"It's...a broom."Gilbert stated plainly, holding it up. "Not so awesome."

"HEY! That's a Nimbus Two Thousand, you know! Really expensive and valuable, and Harry got it for free! He's the only first year who's going to be joining the Quidditch team! How dare you!" Ron can't help himself, and was now bristling with anger. Matthias held up both his arms as if surrendering, but Gilbert didn't because he was just that awesome.

"Ooooh. So that's what you two were talking about during breakfast." Gilbert nodded, finally understanding. So Harry DID get something out from the flying lesson after all.

"Wait." Harry tilted his head. "How did you know we were talking about it during breakfast?"

Denmark's eyes widened, and so did Prussia when he realized what he had just said. No, they were NOT going to reveal their secret.

"H-hey! Gilbert! Pass me those clothes! I'm going to need to get dressed, ya know!" Denmark suddenly shouted as loud as he can, slightly quivering and laughing nervously, signaling that the other conversation was over.

"RIGHT! Yeah! Let's not be late for Transfiguration! Professor McGone-and-all will be mad! Yeah! Unawesome!" Prussia also screamed awkwardly, choosing his words carefully. They can't arouse more suspicion if they knew that Norway was going to teach. Ron and Harry just eyed them silently, still really suspicious.

"Hurry up. We're going to be late." Ron finally grumbled, picking Scabbers from the table and dropping him in his pocket, groaning. Harry had to stop himself from giggling when Scabbers leaped out of Ron's pocket again, scrambled across the room, and jump on and clung to the Matthias's towel. Matthias let out a surprised yelp and tried to pry the rat's claws from his super fluffy towel, which led to Scabbers holding even tighter, afraid to fall down. Matthias growled, and clasp his hands around the small furry rat, and tried desperately to pull the thing off.

When he finally did, Matthias was covered in scars and half his towel was small pieces of string held together by rat saliva.

"OK. You guys done?" Harry asked, setting his new broom under his bed. There were nods from Ron and Matthias, but Gilbert shrugged.

"Um...is that a yes or a no?"

Another shrug.

"So...you mean you don't know whether you're ready or not?"

And another shrug.

"...I'll...take that as a yes."

Climbing out the Fat Lady's portrait, Prussia get his leg stuck halfway and Neville's robes were still in when it shut, so he had to stand there calling for help to open it again, due to forgetting the password. Finally, the big group of Gryffindors had begun to walk down the stairs of the Gryffindor tower. That is, everyone else walked while Denmark ran as fast as his smaller eleven-year-old legs can carry him, panting hard. Before they left the common room, he had babbled something about being late to Lukas's lesson and sped of at the speed of light.

When Harry walked inside the Transfiguration classroom, he was surprised to see not the familiar face of Professor McGonagall, but the cool steely one of the new assistant professor. Harry forgot his name, but it was something along the lines of Bandivok or something. He wondered why Professor McGonagall wasn't going to teach them today.

"Good morning. Take a seat." The new assistant professor instructed, tilting his head in the direction of the chairs. Matthias was already there, sitting right in the front seat, which is very unusual as Matthias would always sit in the back. A short very annoyed-looking Hufflepuff with silver-white hair and violet eyes sat beside him, a very worried expression woven on his face. Harry remembered the first-year to be one of Matthias's friends from the train. Though it was still a mystery to him how they became friends; The bloke seemed to hate Matthias, or at least is tired of his aimless shenanigans. Directly behind him, two very familiar people were seated. One of them was the brick wall known as Tino, and his really intimidating tall blond friend (possibly boyfriend, by the looks of things, but they were only eleven, so Harry had no idea) was there too, looking as scary as ever. Harry shivered, remembering how he had scared the great big dog in the corridor to submission just by looking at it (or rather, glare.)

"Hey! You guys sitting here without me? Gilbert pouted, crossing his arms. he can't really sit behind them either, for there are already other students there. The only few available tables were somewhere in the back, Harry realized when he looked up. He half-skipped to the back, and slouched down to a vacant seat next to Ron while Hermione took the one in front of them, next to Dean Thomas. That leaves the last student who hasn't sat down yet, Gilbert with the one table behind them, with only one chair. Harry swore that when the albino plopped down down in the chair, he heard the German mutter to no one in particular.

"Aaaah. It's so fun to be alone." He sighed, propping his feet up on the table top as the teacher stepped forward to greet the class. He looked barely older than twenty, and had short blond hair. The only thing peculiar about his hair is that there is a small piece curlier than the rest pointing outwards. There was something floating on top of the curl...it could have been a trick of the light, but Harry swore that he saw a little black dot levitation there. But that wasn't the strangest thing about him. Harry saw him twice in the Great Hall, and he never really paid much attention to the professor to be honest, but now he can clearly see...a barrette? Why was the wizard wearing a piece of muggle clothing?

Harry, knowing that he still hasn't yet known everything about the wizard world, tapped Hermione's shoulder for answers. But judging by the look on her face, she too, was slightly bewildered. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and she tilted her head.

"Not now. He's about to talk." She murmured under her breath. Harry quickly withdrew his arm and waited for the professor to open his mouth.

"I am your new professor, Lukas Bondevik, if you had forgotten my name." He started, his gaze traveling across the room. "As you can see, Professor McGonagall isn't feeling well today. I'll be teaching you instead." Nervous glances around the class. Apparently, as they had heard from the other students, he was a nice-ish teacher, but they were now questioning whether it was true or not. Bondevik had this cold glare in his eyes, similar to _a certain Swede sitting in the room_ , not as much, though, but it was still pretty...concerning.

"Alright. Now that we've gotten introductions out of the way, we shall start class." Professor Bondevik announced. "We'll be..." he checked what was presumably his notes. "...turning a piece of paper into a living, breathing giraffe with monkeys as wings."

The class, all befuddled as hell, exchanged looks and murmurs. Um...this is...new...?

A Hufflepuff on the other side of the room raised her hand.

"Um...this is a i bit...random?" she sounded very confused, just like everyone else. Bondevik just shrugged.

"Why not? It'll be fun." The strange man Bondevik smiled but it wasn't really a smile.

"And I may or may not let you turn your fingers into little cat heads if you want. I most probably won't though." There was slight giggling from the class.

"Wait, how would turning a finger into a cat head help us in real life?" Hermione questioned, and everyone turned to Bondevik for answers.

"So the cat can bite Anko." The tone of his voice was as dull and emotionless as ever, but it silently said clearly that the conversation of 'why' is done.

"What's an Anko?" Harry was afraid to ask the question, thinking that it was a wizard term that only he did not understand, but it seemed that even Hermione had no idea what it was, so it was a relief to not be alone.

"Oh. He's my friend." Norway replied, gesturing to Denmark.

"What?" was all Ron can say, as many,many pairs of eyes all turned to the one Dane in the room. Harry wasn't even going to question anything anymore. He didn't ask how they knew each other even when they were from different countries and only seemed to have met just not long ago. He didn't speak about that one time when Matthias and Gilbert were being hyperactive idiots and ruing breakfast for everyone, and Bondevik literally dragged them out of the room. Nope. Not gonna question.

"Yeah. That's right." Denmark's face held a toothy grin as he looked around the classroom so people can see his face clearly. (Denmark swore he heard Prussia muttering under his breath something about 'Denmark wants to gain attention again.') "Bondevik also has a little brother here too."

"Little brother?" A Hufflepuff boy questioned. "Who's that?"

Without a word, Bondevik pointed to the Hufflepuff with violet eyes who sat next to Matthias.

"What. Emil, you're his brother?" The Hufflepuff boy looked bewildered, and so did everyone else. It explained the similarities, and their attitudes were somewhat alike. It probably all made sense to the Hufflepuffs now, though it didn't to Harry, for he had never spoken to Emil before. But Harry had a huge question. He remembered vaguely that when Emil's name was called, he had a different surname than Bondevik. It was confirmed when he overheard a Hufflepuff whispering to her friend about the same subject, and it seemed that yes, they had different surnames. Harry was confused beyond confusion. This teacher was getting weirder and weirder every moment.

"Yes, he is. Biologically" Bondevik shrugged again. "He still won't call me an older brother though."

"No way I would." Emil retorted, shooting Bondevik a deadly glare that meant, 'If you dare say any more, I will make your death slow and painful.'

"Wow, you guys are still talking about that?" A certain Dane exclaimed, chortling. Hey...there's a weird feeling of deja vu here...

"Come on, say it."

"There's no way."

"Big brother."

"Not doing it."

"Big brother."

"Never gonna say it."

"Big sister."

"You're not making any sense." Somehow, this scene seems familiar.

"The Faroe Islands, Greenland-" Oh, that's why this scene seems familiar.

"We're not singing Always With You, Matthias." Iceland grumbled, sinking lower into his seat as he felt all eyes bore into him. "Can we continue with the lesson now?" Norway shrugged.

"Sure."

And then.

Silence.

A very awkward one.

What is it with this morning and awkward silence?

For a full twenty seconds.

With everyone staring at the five people in front of the class. It's making Iceland uncomfortable.

Some one coughed. Hermione cleared her throat impatiently.

"So..." Norway began. Everyone waited for him to continue. He hesitated.

"Open your books to page 265." **(A/N: I made that up)**

And nothing else was heard except the sound of flipping papers and the occasional desk or chair shuffling, or that one time when Neville's book slipped out from his grasp, causing it to make a dull thunk on the table, earning him a few glances. He very quietly laughed nervously to himself, and went back to his totally awesome and epic search for the right page.

When it seems that everyone (except Neville, who was now flicking the paper furiously) had found page 265, Professor Bondevik cleared his throat the same way Hermione did, and asked them to quickly skim the page to get an idea of what they're going to be doing before he explained in full detail. Harry eyed the paper. it had nothing to do with transfoming paper into giraffes with monkeys as wings, though.

Harry's eyes speedily flew across he page, so fast that his brain can't even process the information yet. What, Professor said to skim it, right? He's going to explain it soon. It was still weird though, because the more he read, the more he realized that in this page there wasn't even anything mentioning paper or giraffes. Apparently Hermione noticed it too.

"Um, Sir?" The bushy-haired girl questioned. "This chapter has nothing to do with what you said you were going to make us do...?"

Bondevik blinked.

"Of course there isn't anything specific at all talking about turning paper into giraffes with monkeys as wings." The man sighed. "I made that up." The statement made everyone stop with whatever they were reading and turn to gaze at the professor once more.

"Then why-"

"Read it again." Bondevik interrupted Hermione, which seemed to make her a bit...mad.

"I read over it 3.462 times, I think I've read enough." Hermione moaned.

"Well, then you must know that it does say the basics of turning a non-living thing to an organism, correct?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, you must take the knowledge you get from that book and apply it to this lesson. After all, there isn't going to be step-by-step instructions on how to turn everything into everything else. That's why we're learning this, correct? Once you know the basics, you should be able to do something with it. Is that right, Miss Hermione?"

Hermione didn't even question the fact that he knew her name without any proper introduction. She nodded furiously, her face beat red, and resumed the book, flipping through the pages so fast that everyone was sure she was going to get a paper cut. Bondevik had a point - and Hermione was enraged at herself for not figuring it out sooner.

As this went on, Denmark sighed. If there were no rules, he was sure that Norway would have made them practice human transfiguration by now. On him. He shivered, imagining his fingers turning into miniature Mr. Puffins. That...won't be a good time. What is Norway thinking? He glanced at Norway again, who was writing on the board, chalk making loud, squeaky and really annoying sounds that made Denmark cringe. For a second, he thought of taking notes, but looking at Iceland beside him, Denmark decided against it, because he was lazy. He can just copy off of Iceland's notebook later.

Speaking of ...where is he anyway? He sneaked a peak at Iceland, who was looking as troubled as ever. Huh. Wonder why.

Glancing to the back of the classroom, he spotted Prussia sitting with his feat on the table doing nothing but being awesome. And sparkling a lot, too. There were so many sparkles that one stray one bounced off Prussia's desk and hit Harry on the head. To say that the boy was surprised was an understatement. He whipped around with wide eyes, and stared at the floating sparkle tentatively. If he sparkle had a mouth, it would have laughed as hard as Denmark was at the moment. It seems that Harry had absolutely no idea about the time where Canada made a shield out of America's ignorance yet.

"Bad, bad sparkle. How dare you run away from the Awesome Me." Prussia plucked the sparkle from the air and held it close to his face, scolding it in a hushed tone. "Now go time-out in the corner." he sparkle seemed to droop a bit, but floated to the corner of the room and did what it was told. And suddenly, the sparkle wasn't sparkling anymore, but releasing a dark and depressing aura similar to Russia's or Sweden's, but not at all scary. It just made you feel sorry for it. Harry blinked.

"Um...what's that?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway.

"It's a sparkle."

"...I'm not going to question anything anymore..."

"I don't think you would understand even if I explained it to you a hundred times."

"I don't think I would understand either..."

"Good. Because The Awesome Me hates explaining." Prussia caught another sparkle in mid-air, which was about to poke Harry in the eye. "This one was always troublesome. I told it to go stick to West, but it didn't." Harry nodded, mind completely blank, and slowly turned back to the discussion, where Hermione was asking Norway a question.

It was just as any other class, but more tense, as Professor Bondevik explained the danger of this specific lesson and if they got even a single detail wrong they may or may not unknowingly make the giraffe live a very unfortunate life. Of course, this troubled everyone, especially the animal lovers.

The class, to put simply, ended with everyone freaking out over the pool of blood and giraffe organs on Neville's desk - they boy had forgotten to give it flesh and bones and skin. The monkey wings have detached itself from the bunch of giraffe organs and ha begun to tear up Iceland's notebook, which made both Iceland and Denmark very devastated.

...

"Hey, Fred! George!" Ron called up to his two brothers. It was after all the lessons were finished, and Ron wanted to speak to them before he headed to Hagrid's place with Harry and Hermione and possibly Gilbert and Matthias. When the twins turned, the mischief in their eyes were gone, replaced by the almost lifeless colour that seemed so much like Bondevik's. The bounce in their step wasn't there anymore, and they were just walking rather slowly with their eyes fixed intently on the ground before they stopped.

"W-wait. L-lemme catch...my breath..." Ron was panting, his arms on his knees to support him.

"What is it?" They said in unison, but their voice sounded really dull.

"W-what did S-snape make you do?" Fred's eyes hardened, and George looked like he wanted to punch a phoenix (not a good idea). It was obvious that they had gotten a punishment for their apparent 'rowdy behavior'. It was funny, really, because Matthias and Gilbert both stayed out of trouble all this time. Or to put it properly, they did get in trouble, but never got punished. How?

"Oh, nothing much, ya know. Just got our wands confiscated." Fred shrugged.

"WHAT?" As much as Ron found Fred and George annoying, he still loved them, and didn't think that it was that necessary to confiscate their wands after an accident.

"Yeah. He didn't believe us when we said it wasn't on purpose. He thought we were trying to hurt a Slytherin." George muttered gloomily. Then he added, "We still have to do lessons though."

"THAT'S, THAT'S...THAT'S JUST...JUST..."

"Hey, Matthias. I have something to show you!"

"Wait a second. What was Ron about to say?" Gilbird asked Prussia using his super awesome telepathic powers.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. That was skipped, I think."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Gilbird chirped. "Convenient Flashback Ripples!" Suddenly, the world started to swirl. It's Convenient Flashback Ripples.

"No! That part was skipped for a reason! Go away!"Prussia demanded. "That part wasn't important!"

"Wait." Convenient Flashback Ripples blinked. "Are you telling me that Ron's sense of justice isn't important? Are you saying that you don't care at all about Fred and George? Are you saying that-"

"No, I'm not!" Prussia insisted. "It was just that nobody wants to go through Ron's ranting!"

"I would!" Gilbird chirped. He was shushed.

"Anyways. I think that was just an excuse because the author is so fucking lazy. So...we might have to skip Ron's ranting. Sorry guys." Convenient Flashback Ripples frowned and all the Flashbacks that had gathered there booed at Prussia.

"NOW WOULD YOU GUYS JUST LEAVE ALREADY?" And all the Flashbacks ran away and Convenient Flashback Ripples huffed and dragged the sobbing Flashback that he was about to show - but got rudely interrupted - away. The world stopped swirling and Gilbird stopped getting dizzy and Prussia could once again here Denmark's voice, though slightly muffled.

"-ssia. -russia. Prussia!"

"Wha-?" Prussia snapped out of his trance-like state and turned to Denmark. "Where am I?"

"Um...in our room in the Gryffindor tower in Hogwarts in England."Denmark shrugged. "Can you please stop staring into space mid-sentence?"

"What are you talking about? That was backstage, not space. Just ask Gilbird. He was there." Prussia pointed to Gilbird, who chirped. Denmark just gave him a weird look.

"Okay...what is it that is so important that you have to show me during dinner of all times?"

"Wait..." Prussia stared at him. "What's so good about dinner?"

"Oh...nothin'." Denmark looked away and whistled, scared that if he told Prussia that he wanted to actually eat something Prussia would snap and declare war on his even though Prussia is technically dead.

"Well...uh...anyways." Prussia bent down and pulled out his trunk from under his bed while Denmark eyed it curiously. "I have..." Prussia's hands unzipped the bag and reached in, pulling out some-

"BEER!" Prussia hollered (though, surprisingly, quiet enough for only them and no one else to here, despite the capitol letters) and he pulled out some zip-lock bags of golden liquid that was foaming a bit.

"No...fucking...WAY." Denmark's smile widened into a grin, and he let out a happy whoop and started jumping around the room. "GIMME SOME. NOW." He stopped. "But why are they in zip-lock baggies though? I've never heard of beer sold in zip-lock baggies." Prussia rolled his eyes.

"Well, what do you expect? A fancy cup holder full of beer? How would I bring THAT into the school?" Prussia huffed. "It's convenient, and would make us take a little at a time! These baggies are tiny!"

"But...why? You know, if you got caught, you'll be kicked out." Denmark's expression turned slightly Serius. Prussia shrugged.

"Well, I didn't know that when we got in. In Prussia, the legal drinking age is...I don't know, a day old." **(A/N I don't think that's true, because I'm lazy to do research, but hey, that will make the story more...interesting, because so far this thing is so dull.)**

"Well then...as long as we don't get drunk..."

"We won't." Prussia assured Denmark. "Just one little bag won't do anything."

...

"Prussia's drunk, you, Finland, and Sweden can go to the library, and that leaves me with Harry Potter, so Scotland won't kill us if he dies. Got it?" Denmark told Iceland, who nodded, relieved he won't have to deal with Prussia and Denmark being in the same room.

"I'M A CACTUS! LEAVE ME ALONE!" Prussia shrieked out of nowhere.

"CRAP. WHO LET HIM OUT OF THE MAGIC JANITO'S CLOSET?" Denmark cursed (the non-magical kind) and Finland leaped in front of him.

"Su-San and I can handle Prussia. Iceland can check the library, and you can go with Harry." He smiled. "Good luck, everyone!" And as fast as they can, the all left the dark corridor that somehow was in every book/movie/anything that has anything to do with school. What is it with schools and dark hallways that lead to nowhere? We may never know.

"Okay then. See ya." Denmark watched all his friends disappear from sight, before sighing and making his way to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.


	9. Chapter 9

"This sucks."

There is no other way to explain the situation better. Since the beginning of the year, the two brothers had planned to get their revenge on Snape, once and for all. They needed Ron's help - of course they can't let him know what they were doing. Fred had come up with the best cover story they could have asked for, and when the plan was all complete and they were ready to begin, that stupid first-year, Malfoy, had to ruin everything.

"Of course it does!" George exclaimed, throwing his hands above his head in fury. "Of all the punishments he could have given us that good for nothing professor just had to make our lives miserable!"

"He, hey. Calm down. Take a deep breath." Fred sighed. It has been so long since his brother had reacted this way to anything. Normally they would laugh it off and try again - but he was right. Snape had taken it too far - how the hell were they supposed to survive in a magic school without their wands? Even if it was only for AN ENTIRE TWO FUCKING MONTHS WHAT THE HELL, SNAPE- they needed a lot of time for their little scheme to proceed the way they wanted it to. And waiting for two months was too long for the red-haired twins.

A violently quivering George closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut, struggling to breathe. After five seconds of staring at George, Fred finally saw his brother's eyes slowly open again - and they were filled with a new fiery detemmienation - er, determination. Fred could see the muscles in George's face using much energy to smile - though it looked more like a grimace with his twitching mouth and eyes.

"I have an idea..." He began, but Fred's mouth was already running. (It actually ran - took him as much time to catch it as the time George used to mention that he had an idea) Fred cleared his throat and placed his mouth back on his face.

"I have an idea!" Fred exclaimed, paused, looked at George, and whispered, "Sorry for interrupting-" earning weird glances from the students passing by who were getting ready for the next class. George just stared at his brother, speechless.

"Anyways! As I was saying." Fred smirked. Everyone around him except George were starting to get a little queasy in the stomach as they imagined what horrors the Weasley twins have up their sleeves. George just stared at him a bit more...before grinning widely (and madly) and brought his fingers together, also known as the Super Evil Villain Hand Gestures-

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You bet!" Fred smiled, but stopped. "What are you thinking?"

"Uh...whatever plan you were going to explain to me?" George shrugged. Fred looked deeply disappointed by his brother's lack of the power to read minds.

"Alright." Fred sighed. "Come closer." His brother blinked, but leaned in, and Fred began whispering in his ear. Between slightly girly giggles, George thought how weird it was to feel someone breathing inside his ear. Disturbing.

* * *

"FATHER. FATHER, NO, DON'T LEAVE ME FATHER!" A very, very drunk albino had tightly grasped on to the leg of a Ravenclaw third-year girl, who was screaming, really, really loudly into the heavens like there's no tomorrow. And there probably won't be if the drunken Prussia gets everything he wants, which, fortunately, he won't.

"LET GO!"the girl yelled for the hundredth time, desperately trying to kick his scarlet red face right on the nose. It didn't work.

"I DON'T KNOW YOU! STAY AWAY FROM ME!" But as we all know, Prussia did not listen at all and continued to chew on her shoelaces.

"FATHER! NOTICE ME FATHER! I MADE YOU A CAKE, SEE?!" Prussia pulled a very traumatized Hanatamago, who was clinging onto his pants trying to bite him, and presented it to the very confused girl. Or rather, shoved the barking ball of white fluff on her face as she continued destroying her own vocal chords. The puppy snarled and bit the oblivious Prussia, who totally did not notice that for some reason.

"SHUT UP YOU WORM AND MAKE ME A PASTA SANDWICH!" Prussia's little droplets of spit can clearly be seen hitting Hanatamago on the face, which caused her to freak out even more and gave Prussia's eyes a massive flurry of claws and teeth. The Ravenclaw girl, seeing that the German was busy with the poor puppy, took this opportunity to bash Prussia, really really hard on the skull, and ran for her life. This was a very amazing achievement, for before, only two people managed to defeat the great Teutonic Knights in such a way, and those two people are who he called 'Vest' and 'Hungry'.

Prussia fell backwards as Hanatamago leaped out of his hands and into Finland's who breathed a sigh of relief and wiped some sweat from his brow. Thank Doitsu Prussia was knocked out cold. Or rather, having a pleasant and peaceful little snooze, it seems. He was snoring louder then Greece, which is next to impossible. Well, peaceful besides the maniacal laughing/choking noises he made after a while, for a few seconds, and stopped.

"Well...now we have to get him back to his room in the Gryffindor tower and pretend this never happened." Finland sweatdropped and stared at the sleeping Prussia, who, by the way, was now murmuring in his sleep. The words were a bit muffled, but Finland could make out the words, "Mice made the planet...fish...The fish ate the...phone is a bear...pasta...please someone tickle my balls...I WANNA MAKE OUT WITH A TABLE!" The sudden outburst made Finland jump and almost hit the ceiling, but other than that Prussia stayed pretty tame.

Finland, who looked small and weak, was not weak at all. Snipers work that way. But of course, the other people in the school didn't know that, and they all stared at the trio with wide eyes as Finland carried Prussia on one hand as he walk down the halls. Sweden, being the nice guy he was, stared at everyone as if to say, "If you dare tell anyone else, I will fuck you with a rake." The Hogwarts students tried their best to ignore the eleven-year-old short guy carrying another eleven-year-old guy with the bird on his head and pretended to go on with their daily business, clearly confused but too scared to question life anymore.

"Do you see that?" a Slytherin girl murmured to her Great Lord and Savior Malfoy.

"I know." Draco furrowed his eyebrows at the cinnamon roll carrying an explosive dinosaur. There's no way that can happen - the Tino kid had tiny, puny muscles, and Gilbert must be fat and heavy as hell, despite his appearance - who could eat that many potatoes anyway?

"I'll have to keep an eye on this guy." Draco mumbled to his humble servants, Crabbe and Goyle, who nodded along with their master.

"This could be some great blackmail material..." Draco smirked and his loyal subjects giggled.

* * *

"I still cannot believe it." Ron, despite the whole situation with his brothers and the gigantic fricking dog in the school, smiled.

"I know." Harry's breathe was shaky - the boy was obviously nervous. It was evening; he had to be at the Quidditch pitch by around seven o'clock, and he can't wait.

"My best friend is the first first-year in centuries to be in the Quidditch team! Huzzah!" Ron beamed at Harry, who blushed at being called a 'best friend'.

"Um, sorry to disturb your beautiful moment'" Matthias's voice sounded from behind them. "But Hermione is coming, I think."

The Dane was right - the bushy-haired girl with the everlasting grumpy know-it-all expression was walking towards them - or at least in their direction. Hermione was, not surprisingly, carrying way too many books and parchment, and her bag was overflowing with unnecessary amounts of ink bottles and quills. She didn't look too happy when she noticed the three boys were staring at her as she went.

"Excuse me, don't you three have places to be?" She grumbled, frowning even more deeply that she already was. She was obviously still not happy with the whole 'Matthias's friend scares dog until you can hear its heartbeat' situation.

"Well, yes we do, because at least one of us is amazing enough to play Quidditch in first-year." Ron retorted, and Hermione growled. Harry's face went red again at being called 'amazing'.

"Quidditch this, Quidditch that. Do you boys ever think of anything other than that?" Hermione came back at Ron her best sassy voice. When Ron opened his mouth to argue back-

"Where are you going with all that stuff anyways, 'Mione?" Matthias, being the ever-so-friendly guy, cut in between them in a desperate attempt to regain peace. Ron's and Hermione's eyes signed a silent peace treaty, indicating that the Quidditch conversation is over.

"The library." Hermione grunted, and without another word, she was on her way.

"Of course it's the library." Ron rolled his eyes behind Hermione's back. "That girl doesn't do anything but study."

Matthias shrugged. "It's good for her, I guess."

"Guys, it's almost time." Harry interrupted. "We should get going." At the sound of that, Ron's grin returned to his face, and so did Matthias's.

"Let's goooooo!" The blond yelled in some sort of a weird mix of a Danish and an Italian accent, which turned some heads.

"Matthias, please stop."

When they walked out of the castle, it was already getting dark. The sun was already starting to set, thought none of them can actually see it since the castle was blocking it - the reds pinks and yellows were still visible though, and it was beautiful.

"It's quite cold today." Harry thought, not realizing that he said it out loud.

"Not as cold as it is, back at home, in Greenland." Matthias replied, and Harry jumped, thinking that Matthias somehow read his thoughts.

"Wait, I thought you were from Denmark?" Ron raised an eyebrow, and Harry looked at Matthias to confirm his confusion too.

"Oh, well..." Matthias began, suspiciously sounding nervously. "I lived there...for a bit. Before moving to Denmark."

Ron narrowed his eyes a bit. Matthias always spoke proudly of Denmark, but when they asked him questions like this, he acts all hesitant. Harry seemed to notice it too. Ron gave him a confused glance and Harry shrugged. Ron tried to push out Matthias's strange behavior out of his mind.

They arrived at the Quidditch pitch, which, by the way, looked damn cool. It was a big open grassy field, with rows and rows of hundreds, maybe even thousands, of seats, going up so high it made Harry slightly dizzy to look at. It was probably so that the spectators can see what the hell was going on without fancy pancy binoculars.

"Those rings look like the things muggle children use to blow bubbles..." Harry, again, didn't realized that he had just said his thoughts out loud.

"...Wait, muggles BLOW their bubbles?" Ron scratched his head. "That's weird."

Again, Harry's heart almost stopped beating when Ron seemingly read his mind. Where the fuck did Ron and Matthias learn how to read minds?

"Yeah, they do." Matthias, probably unaware of Harry's internal mind-boggle, answered Ron's question.

"Oh...that's weird. Why bubbles though?" Ron was like the smol confused comic relief in every movie.

"Dunno too, man. Beats me." Matthias shrugged.

"Hey, uh...if you too don't mind, I'm going for a spin while waiting for Wood." Harry informed them, and mounted his broom.

"Oh boy! First-class seats, baby!" Matthias laughed, and Ron looked really delighted. The two quickly ran up the stairs of the stadium to take the highest seats possible. Seeing this, Harry felt like some sort of celebrity with real, caring fans - and this time, it's something that he actually accomplished himself, unlike the whole 'Boi Who Lived' situation.

Ron settled himself down on one of the chairs, while Matthias bounced rapidly on his seat, somehow seemingly shaking the whole stadium. Was Matthias THAT heavy?

"Matthias, calm down." Ron half-chuckled, half-commanded because for the love of God it felt like an earthquake. However, it fell to deaf ears when Matthias got even more excited as Harry kicked off the ground. And soon, Ron learned to ignore the earthquake and just admire Harry's flying. No wonder he made it in the team - this guy was a natural!

"Guys, this is my friend, and he's talented!" Ron said to no one in particular.

"Yup!" Matthias giggled. "I guess we have bragging rights now!"

"But Harry should be the one bragging, not us." Ron shrugged.

"I know, but he's too humble for that." Matthias mumbled, not taking his eyes off Harry.

However, the spectacular performance halted when Oliver Wood has entered the field, and Harry had gone down to great him. The two talked for a bit, then Wood pulled out some balls from the crate he was holding. Using his super Nation hearing, Denmark could hear Wood's explanation of the rules and the game. It was a relief, actually, since the personification of Denmark didn't want to ask Ron, in fear of being suspected once again - he had told everyone that he came from a wizard family, so it would be odd for Ron to know that he did not understand the rules of Quidditch.

Ron watched Wood explain the rules to Harry, thought he didn't really hear what was going on since super hearing didn't exist, probably. So he just sat there, looking at two people having a conversation he couldn't hear, and even though he got the basic idea of what Wood was saying, it was still a bit irritable. Ron squinted, trying to see what Wood was going to pull out next - a Bludger.

Unsurprisingly, Wood freed it - and it went straight for Harry. Matthias jumped in his seat in surprise, and he looked ready to jump down from their high seat to the ground where Harry stood. Luckily, Harry avoided it in time, and it went for the next best target - Matthias himself.

Denmark didn't know what happened. All he could process at the moment was that the Bludger wasn't flying towards him anymore - instead it was spiraling away to the opposite side of the stadium, and that his knuckles hurt. A lot.

Yowling in pain, Denmark recoiled back and plopped back down on his seat without even realizing he was standing before. His first instinct after that was to hold his bleeding hand, which was spewing out blood like a fountain, trying to make it not hurt as much as possible. He winced when he felt his skin come in contact with the flesh on his bleeding hand. Next thing he knew, Wood was flying towards him on his broom

and Harry was already next to him, eyes wide, mouth hanging.

It then occurred to Denmark that he had probably punch the Bludger on instinct so it wouldn't damage his handsome face - except his instincts forgot that his body was reduced to a weak eleven-year-old body and it's probably a better idea to duck than to punch a speeding metal (or he assumed it was metal) ball. Fortunately, he still had his fast nation-healing, and he could already see that the blood has begun to stop bleeding. He prayed to whatevergod to make him heal a little slower because Harry, Ron, and Wood would be pretty freaked out if he showed them his hand again in five minutes and it had no scratch.

"OH. MY. DOITSU." Ron screamed, not realizing that he just said Doitsu instead of God. Ron was about to ask how one could simply PUNCH a Bludger, but that was a question for another time because there is a larger matter at hand. "MATTHIAS ARE YOU OKAY?"

"Ron, that was a stupid question, he's obviously not okay." Harry mumbled, panicking at the same time, somehow. Despite everyone, Ron rolled his eyes.

"Excuse my stupidness, Harry."

"You mean stupidity-"

"Guys, stop." Wood growled, and lightly pushed Ron and Harry out the to see Matthias's hand. And it baffled him greatly - the boy's hand was already starting to stop bleeding...! But that's not important, probably.

"Matthias, we're taking you to the hospital wing."

"I'm fine. "Denmark said stiffly. By the time he gets to the hospital wing, he would have healed completely.

"No you're not. You're bleeding." Wood said, though he sounded unsure because Denmark had already stopped bleeding...and his skin was slowly reconnecting.

"I'll go by myself." Denmark said quickly, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he was already on his way, running out the stadium.

Of course he wasn't going to the hospital wing. Denmark headed straight to the Gryffindor tower - and by the time he got there, all his flesh had clasped tightly together, and the whole hand had stopped hurting. A strange sight greeted him at the entrance - a sleeping Prussia, still smelling of beer, though it had faded just about enough for a normal human to not notice. Sweden and Finland had done their job well.

He carried the snoring Prussian inside, being careful to let Gilbird enter too, before closing the portrait door behind him. He hurriedly carried Prussia up to their room, while all the other students in the common room looked at them weirdly. When the dead nation was safely tucked into bed, Denmark then sat down on his own bed, sighing.

"I...almost got caught there.." He heaved, to no one in particular.

"If they had noticed my monster healing powers..." Denmark shook it out of his head. He was too tired for today, and decided to go take a shower. He passed Seamus by the doorway, saying hi to the boy, before making his way through the hall to the bathroom.

* * *

"Wait...you mean he didn't come here...?"

After half and hour of training with golf balls (with Ron getting hit in the head...twice.) Harry, Ron, and Wood had decided to come to the hospital wing to see Matthias - only, he wasn't there.

"Yes, I haven't seen him anywhere near here." Madam Pomfrey shrugged. "Sorry, kids."

"I can't believe him." Wood growled as they left Madam Pomfrey to go to the Gryffindor tower.

"We'll...talk to him once we see him in the tower..." Harry mumbled, concerned.

"And he better talk." Ron piped up, suddenly interested in the fact that Matthias had literally punched the Bludger into oblivion.

"Yeah." Wood murmured.

When they entered the common room, Matthias was nowhere in sight. So they asked around - it seemed like the last time anyone had seen him was half an hour ago.

"He went back into his room, why?" Parvati Patil asked.

"He was bleeding after he punched a Bludger today." Wood cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't notice?"

"No!" Parvati Patil looked perplexed. "When he was walking to his room today, he waved at me with both hands, and they didn't have a scratch on them!"

"...What."

Parvati Patil scrunched up her face, probably trying to remember. "Yeah, he looked totally fine!" Before she can continue further, a student from the other side of the room called out to her, and she left them with a brief apology.

Wood went to shower to get rid of stink, so Harry and Ron went up to their room together. When they entered, they spotted Matthias, sleeping on the same bed as Gilbert, who was snoring. On the bedside table, Gilbird was resting in a small makeshift cushion instead of on his usual spot by the window, which was, by the way, locked, and the curtains were shut as if someone didn't want anyone peaking in.

"I don't want to wake him up when he's sleeping." Ron murmured as softly as he can. Again, Harry made a mental note to ask where Ron learnt to mind read.

"Yeah...let's go do our homework in the common room, I guess."

Ron nodded.

* * *

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Hermione slammed the large heavy book shut. She immediately regretted it when the dust that was collecting around the piece of presumably ancient text rose from the pressure and clouded her vision. She coughed and tried to wave the dust away, deciding that she had had enough of the library. She had been sitting in there for an hour, sparing her homework time just to research on mythical beasts such as giant dogs.

So far, there has been nothing. She didn't find a single thing about giant dogs in school corridors, or even mentions of them existing at all. And this is why she's ready to tear her hair out - she was supposed to be the master of finding out about anything and everything!

Hermione started to gather her things and was about to stand up to put her book back in the shelves when a boy, probably way younger than her, seemed to approach her table. Right away, she recognized him as the kid from Professor Bondevik's class - the same strange boy that was apparently the teacher's younger brother and one of Matthias's friends. With a closer look, he looked just as unusual as Bondevik - unnaturally coloured hair and eyes, and the boy wore the exact same expression that was always on Bondevik's face. And considering how young Bondevik looked, Hermione didn't doubt that fact that the two were siblings, or at least related in some way.

The kid - Emil, was it? - looked right at her. His face shifted into a weird awkward sort of smile, and he glanced around the library. Hermione followed his eyes; there were no more available tables in the library as everyone seemed to be doing homework. Nodding in understanding, she quickly packed all her parchment and books into her bag, ready to leave.

"Oh, no, you don't have to leave!" The boy started panicking.

"It's okay. I'm leaving soon anyways." Hermione shrugged.

"Oh..."

Emil smiled ever so slightly, probably relieved that he wasn't rude. He was always so shy and quiet, and Hermione wasn't a big fan of it. Deciding to try to act friendly, she started the conversation.

"Doing homework, I assume?"

The boy's eyes widened in surprised - he probably doesn't get to talk to people that much.

"Oh, um..." He started, and he visibly shifted his weight to one leg. "No, I finished all of my homework. It'd be such a pain to get a failing grade."

At this, Hermione beamed. Oh, someone smart and productive! Coming to the library even after finishing work! If he opened up a bit, she might be part of an intelligent conversation for once - Ron and Harry don't exactly share the same interests in studies and such.

"Okay!" Hermione replied, but silenced herself when she realized she might sound too hyper and accidentally scared the boy. "Then...you're here in the library to do some extra reading so you know everything in your next classes and get all the attention from your great mind?"

The boy blinked. "Er...not exactly."

Hermione gave him a questioning stare.

"Oh, you know, just...doing some personal research!"

Hermione shrugged. "Cool beans."

"Heh, yeah." Trembling, Emil slowly set his books down on the table while Hermione watched in wonder. He had brought a collection of books strange enough to fit his appearance. The were old, ancient fairy tales, stories that muggles made up and are never real. Along with those though, there were some real, aged books about muggle history and wars, old enough to be considered fossils, even. But she was more curious of the ficiton books; they were put in shelves specifically labled as such.

"Hey, aren't those fiction books? I thought you were doing research?"

The boy jumped. He breathed shakily and turned to stare at her nervously.

"Um, I mean..." He seemed really scared to tell her.

"Ah..reading for fun?" Hermione, again, tried to act sociable.

"Well...sometimes there are some good themes or clues on reality found in fiction books, you know." Emil tried to explain.

"I don't know what you mean."

The boy didn't answer. It clearly wasn't the case; his eyes told that he was serious about 'researching' with made-up stories. Since he really didn't seem to want to tell her, Hermione didn't press further.

"Alright then. Have a good day." And Hermione left the boy with his books.

What a strange kid.


	10. Chapter 10

**WHAT? IT'S BEEN THAT LONG SINCE I LAST UPDATED? FFFFUU-**

 **I have rewritten the first chapter and edited the rest of the story. Sorry for the long wait for the update! I got writer's block. Fortunately, one guest reviewer just completely brought all my motivation back and I dropped all my homework due the next day to get this out.**

 **Also my dad is kinda sick so I had to take care of him and that took some time...**

 **This chapter was finished yesterday but the update was postponed because lack of wifi.**

 **Also, the ninth chapter is finished, so...if you haven't read the edited version yet, now you no. It's nothing important though, so it's fine if you skip it. You'd just miss out on the bad jokes.**

* * *

Iceland woke up, sweating in his bed, and there was a horrible empty feeling in his stomach. He didn't know why he felt that way, but all he knew is that he wished badly for it to stop. The feeling had been there since the first day, but it was minor and he had ignored it, but now it was intensified by millions. He couldn't quite put his thumb on it, but it felt like he was...forgetting something. Like part of his life was missing, even. It's something important, he was sure, but he couldn't seem to remember what it is.

Iceland forced himself to swallow his thoughts, and slowly dragged himself off his small bed in the Hufflepuff tower to get dressed, readying himself for another day at the library in a hopeless search for the eight greatest nations in the world.

* * *

"Guys...can you smell that?" Matthias stopped in the middle of slipping his shirt over his head, and lifted his nose to sniff the air.

Harry, puzzled, did the same, but all he caught was a whiff of the slight musty scent of the room and Matthias's strong Muggle soap.

"Um...what do you mean by 'that', exactly?"

"Smells like..." Before Matthias could finish, a certain German but in.

"Is that...baked pumpkin...?" Gilbert's voice sounded strangely...slurred.

"Baked pumpkin?" Ron snorted. "Where did that though come from?"

"Yeah...I don't smell anything either." Seamus shrugged.

"No, no, definitely baked pumpkin." Gilbert cut in hastily, and Matthias nodded along. Harry exchanged worried glances with Ron.

When the portrait door swung open, all of Harry's life questions were answered and he suddenly understood everything about the universe and all of existence. The delicious fragrance of baked pumpkin flooded into his nostrils, and he suddenly felt his stomach grumble.

"Wow, Matthias...you're right..." Ron muttered, closing his eyes as he savored the whiffs of baked pumpkin. "Remind me to never doubt you, ever."

"Sure thing," Matthias laughed as he helped an unusually unsteady Gilbert climb out the portrait door.

When they entered the Great Hall, both Matthias and Gilbert, as usual, rushed over to their friends in the Hufflepuff table. Today especially though, Harry found it quite odd. The strange boy - Emil, was it? - had always had this sort of troubled look on his face that was noticeable if one looked close enough, but today it was more obvious than ever. Harry even overheard Matthias asking Emil what was wrong, but the silver-haired first-year just waved him off.

Harry forgot all about Emil when Charms started in the morning - Professor Flitwich instantly made his already great day infinitely times better by announcing that they were finally going to start making objects fly - something that all of the Gryffindor first-years have been discussing since the start of the term. Matthias was being the bouncy baby boy he always was (for a few seconds anyway, before nervously telling Gilbert to sit his ass down on the chair and staying quiet for most the time), and Gilbert demonstrated his awesome ability to make things fly - by making Gilbert fly.

Speaking of Gilbert...Harry narrowed his eyes at the boy. After circling around the room for a while, Gilbird had landed on Harry's desk instead of its usual spots on Gilbert's head or shoulder. Harry expected the German ("Excuse me, it's Prussian!') to make a big deal out of it, but the albino just sat at his own desk, silently watching Professor Flitwick, though his eyes looked slightly glazed over and unfocused.

Another thing that wasn't normal was the fact that Matthias was sitting with Gilbert at the back of the class instead of at the front with Hermione. They weren't even talking, it was just Matthias sitting there, occasionally glancing at the emotionless Gilbert. Matthias acted a bit jumpy, and started stammering when anyone even took a glimpse of Gilbert.

Harry was forced to stop staring at the two when Professor Flitwick announced that everyone was going to be partnered up with someone to practice their magic or whatever. Fortunately, Harry was pared up with Seamus Finnigan while Ron was unlucky and got with Hermione. Harry couldn't help but peek at Gilbert, who got paired up with a Slytherin kid due to the fact that they didn't have an even amount of Gryffindor students. Normally, Harry would have trouble deciding who to feel sorry for - Gilbert or the Slytherin guy, but today it seemed to be Gilbert. The poor kid looked really dazed by everything that is happening around him, while the Slytherin kid complained about him being useless.

Despite all this, Harry was more concerned for Ron. Both Ron and Hermione didn't look happy to not be at least four metres away from each other. Harry forcibly pushed all his friend's problems out of his head and concentrated on his own task. The feather that was supposed to be flying didn't even float one bit. Frustrated, Seamus gave it a little nudge with his wand. For some reason, it instantly caught on fire, and Neville, who was on a table next to them, panicked and ran out the room. Harry quickly put out the fire with his hat, while Professor Flitwick ran out the room yelling at Neville to come back.

Unfortunately, the Professor came back just in time to see the great and powerful Hermione make her feather rise a few centimeters. Hermione got praised, and that made Ron salty for the rest of the day.

"Honestly." The redhead huffed as they trotted down the halls, with Matthias and Gilbert following close behind. Gilbert was a bit...slow, and he had his arm slung around Matthias's neck.

"I can't believe her sometimes. It's like she's some sort of annoying pimple that will never leave your face."

"That's a bit mean." Matthias frowned as he heaved Gilbert onto his back after realizing that the albino's balancing skills had gone down a few levels.

"Whatever." Ron rolled his eyes.

Before Harry could open his mouth to reply, he felt someone bump into him. He turned - and was taken aback by a crying Hermione. Not even stopping to say anything, she hung her head and scurried pass, presumably as fast as she can.

"...I think she heard you." Harry and Matthias said simultaneously.

"So?" Ron growled, but there was a hint of concern in his voice, and he shifted his weight to one foot. "She noticed she has no friends. Big deal."

Hermione didn't turn up for class after that, which made Harry all the more bothered, since Hermione never, ever skips class. She wasn't seen for the rest of the day too. Harry overheard Parvati Patil saying something about Hermione crying in the bathroom and wanting to be left alone, which made Ron look very uncomfortable.

But all thoughts of Hermione or a Gilbert that looked dead inside all rushed out of Harry's head when he saw the Hallowe'en decorations. A thousand live bats swooped over everyone's heads like dark clouds on a rainy day, making the candles flicker and the smiling pumpkins click and clatter, for some reason...? The floors, ceilings, and walls all had black drapes to fit the mood, and the tablecloth looked like dirty rags, though they were very clean when Harry touched them. Occasionally, Harry and Ron would spot shriveled heads hanging hear and there, and both were afraid to find out whether they're real or not.

Harry sat down on his usual spot, slightly dazed at all the dark colours and the goddamn bats that were making a ruckus. He almost didn't realized that the chair was squeaky and the table rattled with ever slight touch until Ron pointed it out. Just like the start-of-term banquet, delicious food suddenly flooded on their glimmering golden plates adored with various gems. Harry began helping himself to a jacket potato, ignoring a certain albino who had accidentally knocked over a drink and had begun screaming bloody murder in a weird whiny voice Harry had never heard before.

Ron, who sat beside him, was staring at something. Harry followed his gaze and saw - Fred and George, it seemed like they're heading straight to Ron. Ron tried to tell them to get the hell away from the tablecloth with the help of insane hand gestures and dagger-shooting eyes. Before anything could go further though, the door of the Great Hall was slammed open, and a wheezing Professor Quirrel stumbled in, his turban askew and his eyes wide and red with a look of absolute horror one might have when they first meet Matthias and Gilbert. All conversations stopped as he sprinted to Dumbledor, and he slumped on the table, uttering these words,

"Troll...in the dungeon..." And his head lolled back, signalizing his fainting.

Chaos.

Fred and George's desperate faces were buried in the sea of people getting up and ready to leave this hell of school. Of course, Fred and George were the least of their concerns right now, Harry's ears were going get deaf if Dumbledore fired anymore purple firecrackers in an attempt to get people to shut the fuck up. Eventually, they did, and without hesitation, Dumbledore ordered the prefects to get everyone the hell out of there and into their rooms where it's apparently safe.

Percy jumped, and started barking orders straight away. The students began to rush to their large groups, eager to not die. Harry almost lost sight of Ron, but managed to grab the redhead's wrist just in time. He did not want to be alone in a situation like this. It seems that they were too late for Matthias though; the blond hand been shoved forward by the flood of hasty students. Only the unnaturally white hair of Gilbert gave any hint of where Matthias is; presumably the mad potato dude is riding on Matthias's back again.

"WAIT!" Malfoy's roar rang through the crowd of undead zombies - students, Harry meant to say students.

"WHAT?" Dumbledore squawked back.

"BUT THE TROLL IS IN THE DUNGEON!"

"SO?"

"THE SLYTHERINS LIVES IN THE FUCKING DUNGEON, GENIUS!"

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I GIVE A SHIT?"

Malfoy went silent, and he furiously marched to Crabbe and Goyle who comforted the angwy wittle baby boy. "It's going to be fine," they said. "Dumbledore is a _troll_ ," they said. "But not like a literal _troll_ ", they said. Malfoy looked even more aaannnnnggggeeeerrrryyyy.

"How the _fuck_ did a troll get in here?" Harry muttered as they heaved their tired bodies up the stares, gritting his teeth and honestly not giving a fuck about his language. He was hungry, damn it.

"Maybe Peeves let it in for a Hallowe'en joke." Ron shrugged. He didn't look like he cared about it. "Trolls are really stupid, after all, so maybe Peeves thought that he could exploit that."

"Trolls aren't as stupid as you think." Both Harry and Ron jumped a few metres into the air when the unexpected voice sounded.

"Emil?"

"Hello." The silver-haired boy looked a bit awkward talking to them, but he talked, nonetheless.

"Why aren't you with the other Hufflepuffs?" Ron raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I was pushed into your group. " Emil shrugged. "I guess I'll just rejoin Hufflepuff when someone realizes I'm here and makes way for me to leave, ya know, so I don't seem rude and just push the people out of the way. But I doubt that'll happen." He added bitterly, which earned him a few confused glances from Harry, but he, unlike Ron, decided to remain quiet.

"So...what's been bothering you lately? You look troubled since breakfast today." Ron tilted his head.

Emil stiffened. "Why do you know what my face looked like when I was eating this morning?" He questioned steely.

"Erm..." Ron pointed a finger to Harry. "He mentioned it to me."

Emil narrowed his eyes and spun to Harry. "Harry, are you stalking me?"

"What? No!" Harry coughed while Emil stared straight into his soul.

"Yeah, and I caught him sneaking little peaks at Matthias and Gilbert too." Ron whispered loudly to Emil, probably enjoying both Emil's and Harry's reactions.

"What? Are you hitting on Matthias?"

"NO!" Harry quickly exclaimed, not knowing where the 'hitting on Matthias' part came from.

"Oh good, I was staring to worry that someone thought Matthias is attractive."

"What?" A confused Ron scratched his head.

"I was just worried!" Harry continued trying to explain. "Gilbert looked like he was drunk or something!"

Emil's eyes widened. "How...did you know Gilbert is drunk?" Emil's voice lowered to a mumble, and his hands started fidgeting with the helm of his cloak irritably.

"Wait." Both Ron and Harry stopped at their tracks, causing the moving students behind them to eyeball them angrily. They both started moving again, but their footsteps were shaky and unsure.

"What do you mean, Gilbert is drunk? He drinks? He drinks AT SCHOOL? AND HE'S ELEVEN!" Ron's voice began to grow louder and louder, and Emil had to shush him frantically.

"Look, guys..." Emil looked frightened as Harry peered into his face.

"So...he is drunk?" Harry blinked, not quite sure what to say.

Emil stared at the ground. "Um...yeah." He lifted his head back up. "H-he'sbeendrinkingsincehewasyoung,andhejustcouldn'tresistbringingsometoschoolandhedrankityesterdaybuttheeffectshadstayeduntiltodayforsomereasonandohfortheloveoflicoriceandhotspringspleasedon'ttellDumbledoreoranyoneotherwisePru-ImeanGilbertwillKILLmeandmyentirefuckingfamily-"

The boy started to freak out even more, and frustrated, he pulled his hair and continued to ramble on and on about 'the stupid Prussian getting caught' and 'why am I so damn stupid' or whatever crap, Harry and Ron were more focused on getting him to shut the fuck up otherwise the other students will hear about it and he'll have more trouble in his hands than he already has.

"That's OK, calm down, we're not going to tell anyone!" Ron whisper-shouted, and Harry began patting Emil's back to get him to breathe.

"Hermione."

"What?" Both Emil and Ron stopped everything they were doing and stared at Harry. As if their day wasn't full of enough interruptions.

"Hermione!" Harry's eyes widened, as he suddenly remembered a certain little detail. "She doesn't know about the troll!"

"Shit." Ron cursed, the non-magical kind.

"Better not let Percy see us." Emil muttered, and grabbing both Harry's and Ron's wrists, the silver-haired boy dragged them through the exclaiming crowd, no longer caring about 'being rude'. Apparently, he also forgot about the whole 'Percy better not see us' thing, because people were giving them hairy eyeballs and protesting so loudly they were sure that Percy heard them. Fortunately for everyone and the progression of the nonexistent plot, Percy did not even look in their direction, perhaps due to the thousands of _other_ protesting people.

The made their way to the Hufflepuffs, where Emil let go of Harry's and Ron's throbbing wrists; that boy sure has a grip! The silver-haired Hufflepuff slithered to Tino and Berwald, with Harry and Ron right behind. Emil whispered something into Tino's ear, and both Tino and Berwald nodded, thus officially joining them to their totally not perverted journey to the girl's bathroom. The Hufflepuffs didn't even question what they were up to, possible because...ya know...Emil...and Tino and that scary dude next to Tino.

"Something smells like shit." Emil stated. Tino and Berwald nodded, but Harry couldn't smell anything. Then, remembering Matthias that morning, Harry decided that he was done questioning life.

"Please hold her for me." Tino smiled at a Hufflepuff, handing her his small white puppy. The Hufflepuff stiffened and nodded, and Tino thanked her.

The five left the confused as fuck Hufflepuffs, but before they even got anywhere, Tino perked up, and looked around suspiciously.

"Footsteps," He muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Three corridors away, in that direction, " He pointed to the corridors where there weren't supposed to be anyone since they're all apparently with their groups.

"Wha-?"

"He's right." Emil cut in. "It's one person, and if you can all shut up, I may be able to concentrate and evaluate the bounce in step, speed, strength of legs and rhythm, thus possibly finding out who it is, or at least tell what mood they're currently in to further prepare us to make an immediate but appropriate reaction upon seeing-"

"It's that teacher, Snape, was it?" Berwald said without hesitation. "You have to learn to how to do that faster, Emil, or you'll be-"

"Quiet!" Harry hissed, and Ron pulled them all behind a convenient griffin statue.

"Or he'll be quiet?"

"Shut up!" Harry and Emil said simultaneously, and Ron covered his mouth with his hands. Snape passed them, fortunately not even looking in their direction. They breathed.

"Thank you, Ron." Tino smiled as they stepped away from the statue and went on their way again, this time noticeably faster to avoid more unexpected encounters.

"No problem." Ron grinned back, puffing his chest. Berwald gave him a glare that can make anyone pee their pants.

"That weird smell is getting stronger." Emil muttered, but Ron wasn't sure if anyone else but him heard it.

"Why was he here anyway? Why's he not in the dungeon, like everyone else?" Harry wondered so hard that he almost tripped on the floor, which is, a way to say that he is going to trip on essentially nothing and humiliate himself, but that did not happen so...yay?

"Beats me." Emil half-shrugged.

"That's not what's important, Berwald! How do you _do_ that?"

"Do what?" The boy who looked more like a man seemed genuinely confused.

"Ya know, the whole 'guessing who it is judging only by their footsteps' thing. Teach me sometime." Ron winked, and Berwald just stared. Harry was thoroughly perplexed; As seen from yesterday at the Quidditch pitch, Harry had come to the conclusion that Ron and Matthias could read minds, and if Ron could read _his_ mind, why can't he ready Berwald's? Was there some sort of barrier-

"We're here...!" Tino yelped, maybe a bit too enthusiastically.

"That stupid stink-"

"I hear something." Berwald stated. "Sounds like footsteps."

"If it's another person, I swear to God-" Before Ron could finish his sentence, Emil put a finger on his lips.

"That's not a person." the silver-haired boy mumbled. "And I think the stench is coming from whatever is there."

"Wait, really?" Harry blinked. He couldn't hear nor smell anything, but he figured that he shouldn't be surprised at this point.

And suddenly, it was there. The intense tang of unclean public toilets and sweat. It was disgusting, and Harry had to cover his mouth to keep himself from dying.

"Is that-"

Suddenly, a head emerged from around the corner. It wasn't a normal human head, it was flat, and grey, and slightly scaly. There were bits and pieces of skin or flesh or whatever the fuck it is jutting out from the sides, and the ridges around the creature's eyes were bigger than a human's. It s eyes itself were small, yellow and unblinking, and it has large coal mines for nostrils. Its lower jaw jutted out, showing blunt teeth, though some were slightly sharper than others. The creature grunted, and its full body slowly loomed around the corner.

Without even seeing its body, Harry and everyone else knew instantly that this is a troll. A big, muscular, lumpy troll, with elephant legs and shovels for feet that can crush them into dust. Its club hung limply from its oversized hands, with large, stumpy fingers and horrendous fingernails. Ugh...

Harry stiffened, not sure what to do. Ron's fist instinct was to yell. Bad idea. The yodel alerted the troll, and it whipped its tree trunk neck around and began clobbering towards them at a speed that is impossible for something that size.

Iceland gritted his teeth. He had revealed too many things to Harry and Ron, and if he did anything more, they might find out that he and Finland and Sweden aren't the people they seem like. If he beats the troll up with no struggle, Harry and Ron would definitely be suspicious. Finland and Sve must have thought the same thing too, and they all held back their power.

Meanwhile, Ron and Harry were having...quite a time with the troll. Harry had managed to lure it into a nearby room, thank God for his brains, and he and Ron had already locked the door without the nation's help. Iceland saw Finland grinning and giving them a huge thumbs-up, and he couldn't help but be relieved that they had it locked it in. Now it can't harm any of the students.

"Stop. Open the door." Sweden suddenly drawled, his voice rough and his eyes dead serious (like they always are). And with that, the Swede reached for the key in Harry's hand.

"No! Are you kidding me?" The raven growled, pulling the key away.

"You _idiots_ -"

A high, petrified scream rang, and it came from the room that they just locked the troll in. A cold feeling of dread flipped inside Iceland's stomach. The girl's bathroom!

Harry's eyes widened, and he fumbled for the keys. Massive fingered snatched them out of his hands, and without hesitation, Berwald inserted the key into the lock. The door opened, and they saw her - Hermione, shivering and screaming in the corner, with the troll slowly advancing towards her in low, loud strides.

"Oy, peabrain!" Ron was, of course, the first to take action. The troll stumbled in its step and stared at the redhead. Immediately, it looked like Ron half-regretted ruining their only weapon - the element of surprise. Damn it, Ron. Instead of Hermione, the troll was now bent on killing Ron, Harry, Emil, Tino...and Berwald, because Berwald somehow isn't scary enough. Harry, seeing that this was his opportunity, took the first thing that came to his hand, which happened to be a pipe, and threw it at the troll.

It blinked stupidly, and forgetting all about Ron, it lunged for Harry instead. Harry dashed away to the other side of the room, trying to put as much distance between it and Hermione as possible. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the ever-so-kind Tino rush to Hermione to save her, muttering words of reassurance. Hermione stared at him, her eyes unblinking, her body still shaking in terror, but otherwise didn't move.

Harry, on the other hand, was reaching the far end of the room, and had no escape. This is the end. He's going to die right here, right now-

Ron yelled. The troll, being the dumb creature it was, went berserk from Ron's crazy horse noises, and reached out its stubby fingers, ready to grab Ron. Before it could do anything, Harry's body went on autopilot, and he did the most foolish thing any human could have done: He jumped on it. From behind. And he clung there, legs flailing until it found a somewhat sturdy spot to cling to on the troll' , fat chunk of slimy blubber he called a neck.

His only thought was to stick something in its nostrils, yeah, very sanitary. And the only think he had in his hand was a wand, which, if you took time to think about it, would be perfect because it's long and thin enough to fit in the nostrils. With no second thought, the beautiful wand was suddenly being beautiful inside the troll's nose, pushed in quite deep if Harry said so himself. The troll roared, and stumbled backwards trying to get Harry out of its back. It succeeded, and Harry didn't know if that's a good thing or not. The first-year was thrown away, and he hit a wall with a painfully loud thump.

The troll grunted and began treading towards Harry, and-

Something grabbed the troll from behind. They were , surprisingly, not Berwald's huge hands that had grabbed the keys from Harry earlier. They were Tino's hands - tiny, weak, just like Harry's. Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Tino was going to die from trying to protect _him_. He can't let that happen, because even when they don't speak to each other very much, Tino is a marshmallow that needed to be protected - Uhm, Tino is also a very good person and he can't just die like this. He's too young. He's too _beautiful-_

Harry wanted to help Tino. He wanted to do something that will save everyone, but before he could even move, the troll had stopped moving. Harry's eyes stretched wide open as he gradually began to realize that the troll was being lifted off the ground - by Tino. He didn't seem like he was struggling at all, and Harry's heart almost stopped when the boy smiled at him. When the troll finally touched the ceiling, and could go no further, Harry fixed his eyes on Tino.

One hand was holding the troll up, and the arm wasn't even shaking. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but-

"STOP!"

Everyone, including the troll, turned around to see Professor Bondevik, standing by the doorway, breathing heavily, probably from a long run to the toilet. He had sweat dripping down from his chin, and he was armed with a raised wand. His eyes were still dull as ever, but there was a very, very slight hint of worry, and his eyebrows were furrowed.

"Put. The troll. Down." Bondevik's voice was soft and icy, and held a hint of aggressiveness. Tino blinked, and, carefully, he lowered his arms and set the the troll down on the slippery toilet floor as quietly as he can. It still landed with a thump. Harry started breathing again when he realized that he was holding his breathe the whole time, but still got his full attention on the troll, expecting it to suddenly leap up and attack them again. Forget Tino's strength, they were going to die because Tino let his guard down!

Surprisingly, it didn't. It just sat there, looking back and forth between Harry, Ron, Emil, Berwald, and Professor Bondevik, with Tino standing right behind it, keeping a narrowed eye on it.

Bondevik moved forward in low strides, wand still raised to the troll's eye-level. The troll seemed to survey Bondevik cautiously, keeping watch on him every second. When the professor reached the troll, he said something. Harry didn't understand what it was, it wasn't English but Harry assumed it was Norwegian, seeing that Bondevik had mentioned that he came from Norway in his introduction.

But language is probably not the most important thing right now. Harry could imagine it; the troll figures that this is its chance and goes berserk. Miraculously, that did not happen, but instead the troll closed its eyes, rolled over, and its body became limp.

Harry's heart skipped a beat, and he held his breath again.

Was the troll...

dead...?

Beside him. Ron gaped at the big bulging body, his wand slipping off his hand and falling to the floor, and Hermione began massaging her head in disbelief. Emil just sighed, and didn't look impressed at all, while Tino scratched the back of his head with a strange eerie smile that made Harry quite skeptical. After this was all over, Harry needed answers.

The loud noises of footsteps got Harry's attention, growing louder and louder, echoing through the halls. But of course! They had probably made such a ruckus, people would have definitely heard the bangs and shrieks and roars. Harry's triumph over the defeat of the troll (Hey, he jumped on it! That was something!) quickly faded when heads appeared at the door frame. Professor McGonagall, skin streaked pure white with terror; Snape, his usual loathsome expression laced with...more anger than usual; and poor Professor Quirrel, who looked so shaken that everyone was sure that he was going to faint again, any minute now.

Quirrel took one look at the troll, turned around, and walked away with his hands in the air as if to say 'fuck this shit I'm out'. Faint whimpers of the professor trailed into Harry's ears. Snape gave Harry an icy stare, and his mouth bent into a snarl. Professor McGonagall glanced at Bondevik, who avoided her gaze and instead eyeballed the presumably dead troll watchfully.

" _What on earth were you thinking?_ " Professor McGonagall howled, her voice enraged, making Harry shiver slightly.

"Please, they were looking for me!"

All eyes in the room swiveled at Hermione Granger, who was still trembling in the corner.

"I...I thought that I can handle the troll myself, you know since I read all about them. So I came looking for it, and...Harry, Ron, Tino, Berwald, Bon- Professor Bondevik, and that other dude were my saviors." Hermione Granger, the most picture perfect student to have ever existed, was telling a lie to her sweet, sweet professors?

(Though that fact doesn't seem to be the thing that bothered Emil, Harry noticed. The boy looked furious when she called him 'that other dude'.)

McGoneAndAll shook her head, incredibly shocked. Snape raised an eyebrow, and a loud "WHAT?" escaped from Quirrel, who was still outside since he was too scared to look at the troll.

"Y-yes! Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Ron was a useful distraction because that's all he'll ever be in this series, and Tino used a spell to lift it up! And then Professor Bondevik came in and finished it off! And Berwald was useless!" Hermione continued, and Harry let all her words sink in while pretending that this wasn't new to him. Suddenly the whole 'Tino can lift up a mountain troll' thing made much, much more sense now. Of course! Haha, pfft, it's not like Harry forgot they had _magic_ or anything.

"You foolish girl..." McGonagall groaned, facepalming. Snape just shrugged, not caring at all.

"Five points off Gryffindor, Miss Granger. And ten points to Gryffindor and fifteen to Hufflepuff for...erm...helping defeat the troll." McGonagall waved her hand. "Now please...go to your dormitory, and don't go around looking for death. I must speak about this with the rest of the teachers."

And, quickly, Harry and the trailed out the bathroom.

* * *

They walked to a certain point, until Harry, Ron, and Hermione had to bid good-bye to the three strange Hufflepuffs. Harry still had many questions; about the whole 'Gilbert is drunk' situation, how they seemed so...powerful. Ever since Matthias, Gilbert, and the Hufflepuffs had entered, Harry always felt strange around them. Like they didn't belong there, but Harry still felt oddly attached to them, even upon meeting the first time. Oh, not to mention their phenomenal hearing and sense of smell they all seem to have.

But it didn't matter. Non of it mattered right now. They had just taken down a gigantic mountain troll, and frankly, Harry could care less for the Hufflepuffs right now since he was so damn hungry. When he got ready to stuff his face until his stomach exploded, he caught sight of Hermione, who was heading over to the tables to get a plate. She caught his eye, and they smiled, softly, not the kind of fake smile one would be forced to do when taking photographs.

Making friends was always a strange process, and taking down a fucking troll was one of the many things that can make unexpected friendship, especially with non other than Hermione Granger.

* * *

"I'm tired." Sweden stated. He didn't complain, he just said it as a fact. Because he's Sweden.

"I know, I am too. But I will not stop until I find something, _something_ that will help us find the G8." Iceland yawned, putting a book down. "Fin, you got anything?"

"Unfortunately..." Finland frowned, and closed the book in his hand. "I went through all the sorts of spells, and written them down. We should try them later when we're not in the library, so we don't end up accidentally creating a black hole when something goes wrong."

"Yeah..." Iceland leafed through the last bits of 'muggle' history books, still finding nothing. He still felt slightly empty inside, since this morning. It was strange, really. He was missing something, he was sure of it...

"Ice, you should go to sleep. Su-San and I will handle this." Finland, being the good mother he was, patted Iceland on the head.

"Stop..." Iceland grumbled. In a way, being patted on the head felt good, but he felt like a child. Finland laughed.

"Goodnight, Ice."

"Goodnight." Sweden didn't looked up from the old dark magic records that they managed to sneak out from the restricted section.

"Goodnight, Fin, Sve." And Iceland walked out the library, troubling thoughts clouding his mind.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Thank you all so much for the favourites, follows, and reviews! Just one review can make my day, I especially enjoy reading them! :D  
**

 **To answer some guest reviews: My dad is fine, but it seems that the rest of my family including me caught the flu. R.I.P. And yeah, the summary was a Kyokoon64 reference. Someone gets it! And there's one guest in the reviews that has given me an interesting suggestion, so I'll probably add that in! (OK, I'll definitely add it in, because actually, it really fits with the plot I'm going for. Oh, yeah, this story has some sort of plot. I know, surprising, right?) If anyone else wants to give me suggestions, feel free to tell me in a review or PM me!  
**

* * *

By now, everyone in the school knew of Iceland's and Norway's relationship as siblings. Blood siblings that is; Iceland still didn't like acknowledging Norway as his older brother. But he had no choice but to go up to the man during breakfast time to ask for help. Don't get this twisted though, Norway is, by no means, Iceland's brother!

At first, Iceland didn't even think of speaking to Nor about this matter, especially since Nor was the one who told a fucking mountain troll to play dead. But this situation has gotten on his nerves for far too long now.

"Nor- I mean, Lukas..." Iceland mumbled as softly as he can as he approached the person who is not his brother at the teacher's table. This, of course, got the attention of all the teachers there, and Snape gave him piercing looks while McGonagall raised an eyebrow. Quirrel also looked quite worried about Iceland, but he shrugged it off because Quirrel was ALWAYS worried. It was slightly unnerving, but Iceland had more pressuring matters in his hand.

"Yes?" Nor stopped poking his food with his fork and turned to Iceland. "Do you want something, Little Brother?"

"I am _not_ your little brother!" Iceland replied hotly, but after noticing the looks he got from McGonagall, he lowered his volume, and gritting his teeth, decided to speak more... _politely_.

"Y-yeah, I need to talk to you about something." He shrugged. Norway suddenly looked delighted, though he didn't smile, otherwise people question if he had accidentally eaten a magic mushroom.

"You're finally asking me for help?" Nor has an amused spark in his normally dim eyes.

"Yes, shut up." Iceland grunted, now not so sure if he did the right thing to ask Norway. But hey, Finland and Sweden were skipping breakfast to go to the library, and Denmark and Prussia aren't exactly the best people to talk to about this kind of thing. In conclusion, he had no other choice.

"Take a seat." Nor smiled but it wasn't really as smile as he conjured up a chair for Iceland to sit down. At this point, the other teachers didn't give two shits about their conversation, but the rest of the students were a bit skeptical of the chair that appeared at the teacher's table out of nowhere. Luckily, Iceland was short as fuck in his (hopefully temporary) eleven-year-old body, so no one saw him.

"What do you want to talk about?" Nor asked once Iceland was comfortable in his seat. The older nation began petting Iceland on the head, but Iceland moved away, feeling his face grow hot.

"Well...I feel strange."

"Explain."

Iceland took a deep breath. "I feel like I'm missing something. Or someone."

"How long has this feeling been troubling you?"

"Since the start of the year..."

"Who or what are you missing?"

"How the _fu_ \- How am I supposed to know?" Iceland cleared his throat to stop himself from swearing in front of the other teachers.

"Maybe it has something to do with that owl of yours."

"Owl?" Iceland blinked. Snowy?

"Yes, your owl, Emil. She had been staring at me from my window for many weeks now. I closed the curtains but I can still see her silhouette. " Nor looked dead serious, and Iceland knew he wasn't making a bad joke.

"Den has been saying that too." Iceland lowered his voice to a whisper so soft that no normal human would be able to hear the. But both Iceland and Norway could still hear it because fabulous powers that come with being a nation.

"I don't know, but something is definitely going on with her." Nor murmured, seemingly half-lost in thought.

"Actually..." Iceland wracked his brain trying to remember. "I never saw her since a week ago. She doesn't come with mail, and she is never in the owlery when I went to look for her."

"I'll look more into this with Finland, Sweden, and Denmark." Nor massaged his brain. "But in the meantime...be careful, and leave this to me, OK?"

"Whatever." Iceland grumbled, frustrated that he was, once again, left out, even when something is going on with _his_ pet!

"Go finish breakfast." Norway's amusement has left him, and his voice was dull as ever.

"I'm not hungry."

"It's an order, not a suggestion, little brother."

Iceland groaned. When will he be in control over his own life?

"Now before you leave, call me big brother."

"No way!" And before Norway can say anything more, Iceland had already hopped off his seat and started to head back to his table, where he will sit and eat alone. He could feel Norway's dejected eyes stare at him as he went, but he had more important problems.

What is going on with Snowy?

* * *

"This is working, so, so well." Fred giggled maniacally, lifting the spoon out from the cauldron of mysterious boiling liquid that everyone seems to stereotype witches with.

"Yes, surprisingly, since we _still_ don't have our wands thanks to Snape. God I hate that guy." George grumbled, remembering the everlasting scowl on that stupid professor's face, and how he looked so, so happy to confiscate their wands.

"But, thanks to your great steali- erm, borrowing...techniques, George, we're able to gather the right ingredients," Fred smiled madly, "and carry on with our...master plan."

George snickered. "This is going to be _epic_."

* * *

"So...should I ask him?" Harry thought to himself, not realizing that, once again, he had said his thoughts out loud.

"Ask who what?" Ron mumbled, simultaneously chewing on a fried egg. Harry jumped out of his seat when Ron creepily read his mind again.

"Ya know...Matthias...and his hands after punching a Bludger?"

"Oh...right." Ron scratched his head. "I completely forgot about that."

"Yeah, me too." Harry shrugged, turning to the next page on his book, _'Quidditch through the ages'_.

"We'd better not ask him anything though." Ron looked uncertain. "You know about Matthias and Gilbert. I don't dare to question anything they do in fear of getting poisoned in my sleep."

Harry laughed. "Yeah..."

"What's going on?" Hermione hummed as she sat down on her seat, with her quills and parchment and enormous stack of books. (As usual)

"Matthias punched a Bludger a month back, and I still have no idea how the fu- hell he's fine right now." Ron murmured.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "He probably went to the hospital wing and got cured using...I don't know, _magic_?" She struck an over dramatic pose, accidentally dropping her books in the process.

"Nope. We asked Madam Pomfrey, and she said he had never set foot in the hospital wing. Ever. She isn't even sure who he is." Harry shrugged.

"Well, are you just going to assume that he's stupid enough to not be able to heal himself?" Hermione shrugged, not even impressed.

"Well..." Ron and Harry exchanged glances. Their dumbass minds have never _thought_ of that!

"Yeah, well, I know he doesn't look that smart, but," She moved closer to them and whispered, "I think he's hiding something, along with his other friends."

"Yeah, I get that feeling too, sometimes." Harry scratched his head and put his book down, too tired to think.

"I. Know. Right?" Ron agreed, as if saying new sentences for every word will actually help emphasize the point he's trying to make.

"Haiwo!" Matthias chirped, startling everyone who didn't notice him slipping through the doors and to the table. "What are you guys talking about?"

"N-nothing important."

Denmark knew, of course, exactly what they were talking about. He heard everything, about Prussia, himself, and the other Nordics. Denmark bit his lip and tried to smile at Ron, Hermione, and Harry as he took his seat. They were definitely suspicious, no doubt, and they were doing a very, very bad job at hiding it. Denmark took a deep breathe, trying to think of some way to not make them start making conclusions, but so far, he couldn't come up with anything.

Prussia, on the other hand, was blissfully unaware of Denmark's silent struggles. The albino sat down and started chatting with his friends, literally at the speed of light. This seemed to divert their attention, and Denmark sighed, feeling the relief of not being stared at. I mean, hey, Iceland's stupid owl stared at him for at least two hours last night, and he couldn't stand the fact that even his friends are keeping a close eye on him.

"Oh, Matthias!" Denmark was snapped out of his thoughts when Prussia shouted from across the table (And frankly, across the table isn't far, and Denmark could feel his ears bleed)

"What?"

"I made you a pot of cool-aid." Prussia smiled, and Denmark could see that it was a genuine smile, not a 'bow down to me because I was nice' smile.

"Erm...I don't think you make _pots_ of cool-aid."

"Well, I just did."

Denmark stared at him skeptically. "Is it warm?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Prussia shrugged.

"It's warm, isn't it?" Denmark narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah."

"Who would make warm cool-aid?" Ron, who sat beside Denmark, tilted his head.

"Please shut up and drink it."

"No thanks..." Denmark shook his head and tried to go back to his orange juice.

"But...but Den- Matthias..."

"Erm, I said no..." Denmark looked away guiltily when he could see Prussia's face fall.

"DRINK IT!"

"NO!"

"DRINK IT!"

"NO!"

"DRINK IT OR I'LL THROW IT ON THE FLOOR AND BLAME IT ON YOU!"

"WHAT THE HELL, DUDE?"

"JUST DRINK IT!"

"WHY?"

"BECAUSE I MADE IT FOR YOU!"

"WHY WOULD YOU MAKE IT FOR ME?"

"BECAUSE YOU ARE PART OF THE AWESOME TRIO!"

"THAT'S NOT A REASON!"

"FINE! I MADE IT...BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!" There were tears in Prussia's eyes.

"OK, calm down, I'll drink it." Harry, the peace lover of the group, quickly grabbed the jug from Prussia and poured some into his own cup.

"SEE, HE'LL DRINK IT! WHY WON'T YOU?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TOO!"

"CAN YOU ALL PLEASE SHUT THE HELL UP?" Hermione, fed up, slammed her book on the table, which did not only stop the arguing, but temporarily stopped all conversation on the entire table as well. And in a hushed tone, she hissed, "Pervy - er, I mean Percy - is watching us."

"Right." Denmark nodded, and sat back down after realizing he actually started rising up from his seat as he shouted. Prussia just plopped down on his chair with a huff and narrowed eyes.

"I feel betrayed." The albino muttered, taking a bite out of a french fry.

"Hey, Potter!"

Harry groaned. Before both Matthias and Gilbert had time to cool down, Malfoy just _had_ to ruin their day all over again. The Slytherin smirked at Harry, his goons flanking him protectively.

"It's almost time for Quidditch, huh, Harry. Don't worry, I'll be running under you with a mattress." Malfoy laughed, knowing he had struck a nerve.

"Oh, fuck off." Matthias growled, not looking from his food. Somewhere else at the Gryffindor table, sitting in a distance far enough that it was impossible for a normal human being to pick up those words, Percy shot lasers out his eyes at Matthias.

Malfoy chortled, and with his hands on his hips, the boy sassily walked away to find other people's lives to ruin.

"Honestly, that guy..." Ron muttered, eying the departing Malfoy.

..

The air outside was especially chilly that day. It was November, after all. Quidditch season was coming up, and Harry hadn't looked up from his Quidditch books yet as the group stumbled along the half-frozen dirt. Hermione was much less strict about breaking the rules after the mountain troll fight that had mysteriously ended with the troll fainting, so when an icy breeze sent everyone (except Matthias) shivering, Hermione conjured up a bright blue fire, which she kept in a jam jar.

Everyone except Matthias gathered around the flame too get warm. Gilbird, also becoming rigid with cold, burrowed himself into Gilbert's neck, and Ron glanced at the cute bird as Gilbert let out a soft giggle. Matthias awkwardly stood at the side, watching everyone huddle close, shivering. He didn't seem interested in the fire.

"Matthias, aren't you cold?" Hermione broke her gaze from the jar and looked over Harry's shoulder at Matthias. Said blonde smiled and shook his head.

"It's way colder than this back home." He sighed, almost sadly, and his breathe was visible.

"I c-can't imagine." Ron's teeth were chattering, and he pulled his scarf over his mouth. Matthias laughed, though it was softer than his normal energetic laugh. He was clearly unfazed by the frosty weather.

Something in the distance caught Harry's eye, and he quickly stepped in front of the fire. It was Snape, who was limping strangely out of the castle. Hermione, Ron, and Gilbert hastily moved to block the flames from view, because surely it wasn't allowed. But they must have looked guilty, because when Snape caught a glimpse of them, he immediately changed direction and limped towards them instead.

Once he got their, he gave them his usual piercing glare. "What do you have there, Potter?"

Everyone held their breathe, but Harry realized that he hadn't seen the fire yet. The boy looked at the only thing in his hand - the book, _Quidditch Through the Ages._ Harry shrugged and held it up for Snape to see.

"Library book? Outside the school?" Snape screeched with a strangely high voice. He may or may not be over exaggerating, but no one was taking chances.

"Five points out of Gryffindor!" And the bastard limped away without returning the book.

"Damn it." Harry muttered, gritting his teeth. "Just when I thought there was nothing he can possibly call us out for."

"That piece of burnt toast probably made that up!" Gilbert growled.

"That's, like, an insult to burnt toast." Ron murmured.

"Wonder what's with his leg?" Hermione began, totally ignoring everything that has previously been said.

"Whatever it is, I hope it kills him." Gilbert snarled.

"That's a little too much." Matthias scratched his head. Gilbert shot the blond a look that says that he meant it.

...

The Gryffindor common room was noisy as usual, with people buzzing about. Denmark was called to speak with Norway, for whatever reason, so it left The Awesome Prussia to look after the kids. They sat by the window, with The Awesome Gilbird sitting on the windowsill nuzzling The Awesome Prussia's cheeks. The awesome albino had his awesome head resting on his awesome hand, staring at nothing in particular outside the window as his awesome breath fogged up the Awesome Prussia realizes that he uses the word 'awesome' too many times in one awesome sentence, and that might possibly make the word weird and meaningless, so he decided to bloody stop.

Beside him, Hermione was checking the boys' homework while Harry and Ron sat at a table nearby playing wizard chess. Hermione won't straight out tell them the answer, of course, saying that they will never learn if she did. But by letting her check their homework, they get the right answer anyway. While Harry and Ron actually tried to answer everything correctly, The Awesome Prussia just wrote all the wrong things down. It makes The Awesome Him look retarded, but it drove Hermione to correct his answers in more detail than she should have. It turns out learning magic isn't as fun as Prussia thought.

"Ah, I suck at this." Harry chuckled as Ron beat him - again, for the 381st time. Ron grinned triumphantly, and Harry gave the boy a small defeated clap.

"You don't suck, I'm just too good." Ron boasted.

"Oh, wait 'til you play against Nor- Lukas. He'll crush you." Prussia can't help piping up. Ron raised an eyebrow as Harry stood up and stretched.

"You've played against Lukas before?" Ron had left the table and his chess and had begun to edge closer to Prussia, looking interested.

"That's Professor Bondevik for you." Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes "And you got this little paragraph here all wrong, did you even do research?"

"Oh, be quiet, 'Mione. Gil can call the professor Lukas, why can't I?"

"They were friends, so of course they probably break the last name barrier." Hermione shrugged, but just to be sure, she added, "But that doesn't mean you can disrespect him, Gil."

"Yeah, yeah." The Awesome Prussia waved his hand at her lazily. She didn't know his and Nor's relationship anyway. She didn't know that Prussia was actually an old, battle-scarred dude and can disrespect anyone he likes.

"Anyway, Ron, before The Awesome Me was rudely interrupted," And The Awesome Prussia proceeded to tell Ron about that one match where The Awesome Prussia himself won.

"OK, I need something to keep my mind off everything, so I'm getting my book back from Snape." Harry, at the other table, called to them.

"Better me than you." Ron was really invested in the story, but he got up anyway and prepared to leave. Harry smiled and shook his head, and left.

And so that left The Awesome Prussia to continue his awesome story. When they got to the part where Denmark was going to flip the chessboard and make Prussia win, the albino's sensitive ears picked up Harry's footsteps, running towards them.

"What's wrong? Did you get the book?" Ron asked when Harry reached the group. The redhead put his parchment down (yes, he was taking notes) and Hermione, next to Prussia, looked up from her homework-checking in interest.

"No, but...I saw Snape."

"Yeh, duh." Prussia rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't done talking." Harry snapped. Hermione signaled for Harry to ignore the albino and continue.

"Snape was in a pretty bad shape. Filch was there - helping the guy bandage his bloody mangled leg." Harry shuddered, the image still stuck in his mind.

"Ah, so that's why you carry a faint scent of blood on you." Prussia realized too late that that was probably a weird thing to say.

"Anyways," Harry breathed, used to this weirdness, "He was screaming at me to leave. And that look on his face - it's more panic than anger. And you know what that means? He was trying to get pass that giant dog on Hallowe'en! To get to that trapdoor! And he let that troll in as a distraction!"

"That's...actually...that makes sense!" Ron's eyes were wide.

"Er, well, maybe...that might not be the case. I...I don't think that's what he was trying to do." Hermione feebly spoke up, and Harry and Ron looked at her. Prussia yawned.

"Your teachers aren't saints." Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione frowned.

"The Awesome Me agrees with the girl, actually." Prussia shrugged. Hermione glared at him for referring to her as just 'the girl'. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you shouldn't come to conclusions." Prussia spun in his chair.

"But all the puzzle pieces fit, Gil!"

"You know what? Let's just ask the troll what happened."

Silence.

"Gil..."

"Harry, I swear I did not drink more beer."

"I'm keeping an eye on you."

But secretly, Prussia thought of asking Norway.

* * *

Ah, I see." Denmark narrowed his eyes, his hands on his chin scratching a non-existent beard like all old people do in movies.

"Anyways, I want you all to keep a close eye on the window, and whatever you do, don't open it." Norway sighed in his usual emotionless tone. Fineland- er, Finland nodded, Sweden...was just being Sweden, and Denmark flashed a toothy grin and gave a thumbs-up, killing the serious atmosphere. Damn it, Denmark.

"Oh, and please..." Norway turned to Finland and Sweden. "Please take care of my little brother. I know I've said this, and I know you know, but just...please."

Hearing the older man plead, Finland nodded again, though more solemnly. Sweden gave a short, curt nod as his eyes glared at everything in the room.

"Thank you." Norway whispered. "You may leave."

Sweden offered to carry Finland all the way to their dorm, and Finland laughed, shaking his head. If Norway didn't ship them before, he was definitely shipping them now.

"Oh, and Den." Norway called before the blond set foot out the room. Said boy turned to face the professor.

"Yes?"

"Scot said this already, and I'll say it again. You do not interfere with what the Boy Who Lived does." Norway stared into Denmark's eyes, and behind that smile, Denmark had his full attention on Norway. "Your only job is to keep him from dying a brutal death before he defeats the Dark Lord. Anything else, I recommend you stay away."

Norway leaned closer. "And don't let them know about us. Don't even make them the lease bit suspicious. Got it?"

Denmark took a deep breath and nodded. He looked guilty, but before Norway could make any comment, the first-year had closed the door behind him.

Norway, tired after another long day, slouched in the half-broken wooden stool he was provided in his poor excuse of an office. He was typing on the laptop lesson plans for the next class he had to fill in, or assist in. Of course, wizards here don't have such technologies, but hey, there are no rules against them. Norway had already written several spells on filling his laptop with insane amounts of battery, went as far as installing cables and such for (very slow, mind you) internet connection.

His hair, without his cross (which is also conveniently a hidden phone), was completely messed up by the winds outside, which had grown stronger and colder the past few weeks. Norway ran a finger through the golden strands as he picked up his mug for another sip of warm, bittersweet coffee. It still wasn't as cold as it was back home, but it was still slightly chilly, and hot coffee was good any day despite the weather anyway. His troll, who he had sneaked into his room after the troll attack incident, was sleeping, curled up in his bed.

He put his coffee down and proceeded to munch on some cookies that he had baked himself. He had gained access to the kitchen - by asking the elves politely, of course. They were too nice to say no to him, so most of the time, he found himself heading down there to use their oven. He didn't even bake stuff for himself, sometimes. He would occasionally bake something for the elves too, just for the sake of baking, though the elves kindly turned them down - or in most cases, run away in fear.

As Norway began to type again, his shoulders stiffened. He was being watched. It was nagging gut feeling he had, and all his gut feelings were almost always right. (This is how, just a month ago, he was able to tell where his troll was, run to it, and command it to play dead just in time before the other professors got to the girl's bathroom). Norway whipped his head to face the window. Yep, he was right. There was a silhouette of a head there, on the blinds. The head of the same creature he had promised Iceland he would take care off.

Norway quickly got up and dashed to the window. The silhouette was still there, unmoving, when he reached the window. He grabbed the blinds and pulled them open, expecting to see the thing he feared was slowly making Iceland insane.

There was nothing. He caught the view of the darkening blue sky, the forest, and a large grassy area outside of Hogwarts. There was nothing on his windowsill peaking at him.

Was he going crazy?

* * *

"Ya gotta eat somethin'."

"Nnnnnnno." Harry turned away, pouting like a stubborn child.

"But you have a Quidditch match to win."

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnno."

"Come on now. The Awesome Me has potatoes."

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno."

Prussia sighed, and stopped waving the baked potato in front of Harry's face. Maybe if he ate it and exaggerated its already divine deliciousness, Harry might get interested.

"Just a bit of toast," Hermione added. "Come on, Harry."

"Harry. You need your strength. And your strength might need you too." Seamus Finnigan wheedled. Everyone scratched their head at the terrible attempt at an inspirational quote. Seamus just blushed in embarrassment and began piling up sausages from his on plate on the mashed potatoes in Harry's plate. (Thank you, O Awesome One, for the potatoes) (And thank the kind Seamus too, I guess)

"Thanks." Harry muttered, and picked up his fork halfheartedly as Matthias patted his head. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Emil glaring at him from a distance.

At eleven o'clock, Harry saw students already starting to gather around at the Quidditch pitch. He noticed that some of them had binoculars - so the boy assumed that even when the stands are high, it must be hard to see. Just how high was he going to fly?

The Slytherins were already there when Harry and the other Gryffindors reached the pitch. Harry glanced up at the top row of seats, where Ron had told him that he, Hermione, Dean, and Seamus were sitting. It seems that Matthias, Gilbert, and their Hufflepuff friends had joined them. And to Harry's surprise, someone has painted on the sheets that Scabbers ruined. It said _Potter for President_ in Matthias's messy handwriting, and a Gryffindor lion was painted underneath in Dean's art style. To add to that, the banner changed colours, so Harry assumed it was Hermione who had done the particularly tricky charm to make that happen. And when Harry squinted, he could make out the tiny writing underneath saying, 'The Awesome Me was here'.

The Slytherins wore green robes as a uniform, and as Harry learned in the changing rooms, his team wore scarlet.

"Alright, guys." Wood began.

"And girls." called Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And girls." Wood rolled his eyes. "This is the one."

"The big one." Fred piped in. The boy's grin was larger than usual.

"The one we've all been waiting for." George added, and then to Harry, he whispered, "We know the guy's speech by heart."

"Oh, shut up, you two." Wood growled. Judging by his voice, he was anxious too. "It's time. Let's win this match."

He gave everyone a look that says 'and you better win if you don't want me to gently slap you until you die'.

Harry stumbled out the changing room and clambered onto his broom. Madam Hooch was refereeing, and she told everyone that she wanted a nice, fair game; thought it seemed that she was aiming her words at the Slythering captain, Marcus Flint. Harry didn't pay much attention though - his heart was racing, and his palms were just too sweaty as he swiveled at he crowd. The banner that his friends had painted his stood high above everyone's head, fluttering in the wind. Seeing it made Harry smile, and his nerves calmed down and untangled, ever so slightly.

The high sound of a whistle sounded, and broomsticks immediately shot up. Harry's heart hammered as his own broom shot up without him realizing he had made it do that. And he was in the sky, flying higher and higher, the wind rushing through his hair and blowing hard on his face - thank God his glasses had decided to stay on his face to shield his eyeballs from the chilly air.

Denmark jumped in his seat when his sensitive ears reacted to the horrible whistle, and the man- er, boy - cringed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Prussia, who was sitting beside him, wince and cover his ears. Denmark shook his head, trying to ignore the ringing in his own ears, and focused his attention on Harry. He remembered Norway's words - don't interfere unless Harry is going to get brutally murdered; flying seems quite dangerous, so Denmark had decided to keep his eyes peeled.

"Aaaaand Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor has the Quaffle! She's a great player, that girl, and really attractive too-"

Denmark giggled at Jordon's gud commentary as said person was getting strangled by Professor McGonagall. But regardless of that, Lee Jordon the Great somehow kept up the commentary, until...

"AND BOOM! GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Loud cheers and claps erupted from the crowd (though it was considerably more quiet at the Slytherin area) and Denmark jumped from his seat and started shouting too. Prussia also cheered, but instead of cheering for the people who scored, the albino cheered for himself because he was that awesome.

"Oop, comin' through, comin' through!" Denmark blinked, and his eyes caught sight of the towering build of Hagrid. The giant man was apparently close to Harry, thought Denmark had never spoken to the guy himself. Hagrid was making his way towards Denmark, but he soon realized that the man was trying to get to Ron and Hermione, judging by the wave he gave them.

"Hiya, Hagrid." Ron greeted. Hagrid smiled, and sat down, taking up a space that could have been for two and a half people. Everything vibrated due to Hargid's weight, and Denmark shuddered, knowing that if he fell down from his seat high in the air, his eleven-year-old form wouldn't be able to take it, unlike his normal strong body. Fortunately, soon after Hagrid had settled down and gotten comfortable, everything stopped shaking, and Denmark breathed a sigh of relief.

"Bin watchin' from me hut, but it ain't the same as bein' the crowd." The large man, who didn't spare a glance at Denmark, told Ron and Hermione.

"It's way more intense here." Hermione smiled, and looked up to search the sky for the little dot that was Harry. Hagrid grabbed the binoculars he hung around his neck.

"No sign of the Snitch yet?" Hargrid asked, squinting.

"Nope." Ron shrugged.

"Actually..." Prussia began before Denmark could stop him. "It's right there."

Denmark shot the soon-to-be dead-yet-already-dead nation a glare that clearly said that if he said anything else that hints at his super eyesight or super anything at the matter, Norway will have their throats.

"I don't see it." Hagrid stated, focusing his binoculars in the direction that Prussia had pointed.

"It's probably a trick of the light." Denmark said quickly while putting a hand on Prussia's mouth before the albino could say anymore.

The game continued. Denmark could see Harry getting more and more frustrated every minute as he kept turning and squinting at everything, but never seeming to find the small golden ball. The boy kept flying around hopefully, every once in a while doing some loop-the-loops, though Denmark wasn't sure if it was to show off or to let out his feelings. Probably the latter. At some point in the game, a Bludger began hurdling itself towards Harry, and Denmark held his breath and started to panic; luckily, it seems that one of the Weasley twins had gotten it covered, and Harry was safe.

It was some time after that when Denmark clearly saw the spark in Harry's eyes. He had found the Snitch.

Harry, not taking his eyes off the Snitch, began to steer the broom towards it, fast. Denmark stared at him as he went at a dangerously fast speed - if he didn't stop his broom in time and hit the ground, he would be dead. But that was not the only problem, as it seems that the Slytherin guy had noticed what was happening, and was now on Harry's tail. Everything else after that was a blur - the darn Slytherin kid had crashed into Harry's broom, and they both began spiraling towards the ground. (which, of course, made Denmark look away before Prussia told him that it was alright to look and nobody died and Scotland won't be killing anyone) In all the commotion, Harry lost sight of the Snitch again.

"This is...a very dangerous sport." Denmark muttered, staring into the sky. Prussia raised an eyebrow at the man who had murdered people with an axe.

But that was not the worst thing that had happened in the game. As the match progressed, Harry's broom started acting weird. Denmark could see the panic - Harry had lost control.

"Now what is that child doing?" Hagrid stared through his binoculars. "Why's he goin, higher, flyin' _away_ from the match?"

"He lost control." Said Prussia as-a-matter-of-factually. And just as he uttered those words, the crowd had begun to notice it too. They whispered and pointed at the black-haired first-year who looked like he was going to barf. Or die. Or both.

Neville let out a high-pitched yelp and buried his face into Hagrid's jacket. Ron narrowed his eyes.

"You're right!"

"Dark magic." Hermione instantly said.

"Don't come to hasty conclusions." Both Prussia and Denmark protested simultaneously. They may or may not be possessed by the Weasley twins, who, by the way, had stopped killing people with Bludgers to hold their arms out just in case Harry falls.

"It's Snape." Ron whispered to Hermoine so Hagrid won't here them, ignoring the nations. Prussia let out a snarl.

"It's not Snape."

"He's completely focused on Harry, and he's muttering non-stop. He's jinxing the broom." Ron shot back.

"I'll take care of it." Hermione piped up.

"No, don't." Denmark sighed.

"I _said_ , I'll take care of it." And before anyone else could say anything, she had walked away.

"Fffffffffuuuuuu-" Before Prussia could finish his words, Hagrid turned to look at him.

"-uuuuuriendship unlimited."

Hagrid blinked and slowly and awkwardly turned away. Prussia groaned, realizing that Hagrid was just looking at the people behind Prussia, who were causing quite a ruckus over some taken seats. Denmark chortled, and Prussia felt humiliated.

"Friendship unlimited indeed, Gil."

"Shut up."

Hermione made her way through the red sea of students, stepping on feet and barely muttering apologies. She accidentally bumped into Professor Quirrel, and the poor man squeaked and dropped his wand. She didn't even think about why he had his wand out, all her attention was on Snape, who was still _jinxing_ Harry's broom. Her eyes were about to pop out her skull just because she was just staring at him the whole way there.

She bumped into another person. Hermione didn't give a shit, and continued pushing everyone out of the way.

"Hey, Hermione. That was a bit rude of you, wasn't it?"

Hermione almost screamed. She didn't have time for this! She had to save Harry!

Norway looked down upon the frustrated Gryffindor. He had noticed her making her way down the stands, and he immediately knew that she was after someone. He didn't know who, but Norway, because of his ears, knew that the person was, in fact, chanting a counter spell for the jinx that was put on Harry's broom. Whoever it was was still in the middle of it, so he needed to stall as much time as possible-

Hermione had pushed him out of the way and began sprinting, and she looked back for a second to mouth the words, 'sorry, professor'. Norway wanted to kick himself, but legs don't work that way, so he decided to punch himself instead. Damn it, damn it all.

Hermione allowed herself to breathe again after putting a considerably amount of distance from her and the professor, who was speechlessly staring at the direction she ran to. She...still wasn't exactly relaxed when the professor started foaming in the mouth and gave himself a black eye due to a punch. But nevertheless, Hermione carried on her epic journey, with her target getting closer and closer to her.

She didn't stop to actually read Snape's lips to see if he was actually jinxing the broom, because she knew, for sure, that he was. Quickly and without thinking, (gasp, this is not the Hermione we all know and love!) she bent down next to Snape, hoping she won't be noticed, and uttered a spell, perfectly chosen. Her wand touched the tail of Snape's cloak, and a small blue flame appeared and traveled up the cloak.

It took him a moment to realize that he was burning and should probably run.

So the guy fell, screaming and rolling on the ground, no doubt forgetting that he had magic due to pan icing in the spur of the moment. So instead of putting out the fire calmly like any good wizard would, he just swatted at the fire with a hand. Hermione slipped away from the scene, giggling evilly to herself as people began crowding around Snape to see if he had finally lost it. Hermione felt satisfied after this accomplishment. It wasn't every day that one gets to mentally scar one's teacher. Hermione grinned triumphantly; that is, before she the long, shrill scream coming from up above. Hermione's head twisted up, and what she saw completely wiped all traces of a smile off her face.

She realized in horror that she was too late.

The small dot that was Harry was becoming less and less small - he had fallen off the broom.

Hary's heart was hammering against his chest so hard that he felt like it was going to pop out any moment and walk away because it didn't want to deal with this. His broom had gone mad, and he was so focused on getting it to work again that he forgot how sweaty his palms could get - and it was too late now. The wind rushed at his face as he shot down, the ground becoming bigger and bigger.

His life flashed before his eyes, remembering the good times he had with Ron and Matthias and Hermione and Self-Proclaimed Awesome Drunk Albino Dude. His eyes starting stinging with tears as he knew that the good times will never come back, because this is it. This is where he was going to end. He was going to die here, in a supposedly harmless game, before he got to defeat Voldemort, before he could go back to the Dursleys and rub in their faces his magic abilities and newfound knowledge. All his hopes and dreams were shattered.

He forced himself to close his eyes and brace for the impact on the ground. Everything was going in slow-motion, and he wished he could just die and get it over with.

There was a horrible crunch.

It was a miracle. Harry has landed, and he was still alive, still breathing, and his heart was still beating, racing so fast he thinks that he might just die from shock.

He had landed on something soft. It wasn't a cushion. It wasn't a mattress.

It was...flesh.

He didn't have the heart or energy to look. He lay on the...pile of whatever the hell it is, panting, eyes wide with fear, and for the next few seconds, his vision was dark and blurry, and everything he heard was echoing and distant. It was hard to breath. But he was breathing, alright. He was alive. Alive!

A massive wave of relief flooded over Harry, and the boy closed his eyes, exhausted.

...

"What the hell?" Denmark screeched, jumping and stumbling over the mass of panicking students to get to the field where the Quidditch match took place. "What the absolute, fucking hell?"

"Coming through." Norway, though bewildered, was able to keep his cool and moved swiftly but calmly through the stands.

Denmark reached the field first, and the crowd, still screaming and yelling, parted way for the blond. He immediately he knew that the small heap of flesh and bones, lying in a terribly deformed state, was not moving.

"Is he alright?" A small Hufflepuff face poked out from the crowd, and Finland can running up to Denmark, with Sweden trailing not far behind.

"I don't know! Does he look alright?" Denmark shrieked at the cinnamon roll, still breathing heavily. He was instantly and painlessly killed by the daggers from Sweden's glare.

"What happened?" Norway emerged from the crowd, wand ready.

"I, I don't know! Pru-Gilbert just...ran! He ran and stood there, as Harry came down!" Finland cried in horror, shaking violently and clinging on to a slightly terrified Sweden.

"Hospital wing, now." Norway hissed, just as the other teachers rushed in to see the remains of the poor albino.

* * *

Hogwarts always looked mysterious at night. The moonlight barely shown in small slits through the window, giving the halls a dim, ghostly glow; and the light that reflects off the still waters of the lake outside almost never helped with lighting the place up. Anything and everything that even makes the slightest bit of noise can cause long chains of echoes, traveling down the passageways that twisted and turned in and around the ancient castle.

Perhaps the creatures of the magic world that loom about were the most spine-tingling aspects. Although Hogwarts was apparently safe from outside forces, such as the vicious monsters that roam around the Forbidden Forest, sometimes it was the ghosts and the paintings and whatnot that can really make one worried. It mostly wasn't them that were dangerous, but the secrets they hold.

Quirell paced back and forth in the halls, his turban feeling heavy on his head. The small white owl he had so managed to get under control had returned from its nightly duties of spying on...certain people, and was now resting on his shoulder, delivering messages to the Dark Lord. From around the corner, the ghosts had passed by the paintings, and were now having a little chat. Quirell's ears picked up all the conversation, and he held his breath when he realized what he was hearing.

"I'm telling you, I know this guy! Dull, soulless eyes, the weird little curl floating individually beside his hair..." One of the ladies in the paintings sighed. Quirell narrowed his eyes. Yes, they were talking about Bondevik, the person who his owl had coincidentally been following. Quirell always knew there was something up with that guy, so ever since Bondevik had been weirdly staring at him, Quirell risked sending the owl.

Now he was more certain that he had to keep an eye out for these strange people before they can ruin the Dark Lord's plan.

He needed to learn more about them. He kept listening.

I know, right! He's been here before, I'm sure of it!" A ghost piped up.

"I've seen him before too! I remember! Definitely!"

"I don't know, I don't even have the vaguest recollection of 'em." One of the ghosts shrugged.

"Me neither. In all my years of living here, I've never seen him. And I've lived here for a long damn time." A person in one of the paintings scratched the back of his head.

"He's right, no human can live that long." Another ghosts tapped his finger on the wall. "I still can't shake the feeling of seeing him somewhere."

"Forget the professor guy, there's this kid..." A ghost whispered, as if he was scared someone will hear him. Quirell inwardly snickered, because there _was_ someone hearing him.

"Oh, that one with the red eyes?"

"And white hair? Yes! I've seen him before, I just can't put my thumb on it!"

"And did you're hear, The Boy Who Lived fell off his broom and landed on him last week!"

"What? Really?"

"It's true! And he's not supposed to be alive at this point."

"But he is. I saw him being carried to the hospital wing? And he was carried back out with no injuries, completely healed."

"Even with such good healing spells, the damage..."

"So how..." The ghosts' and the paintings' conversation grew louder and louder.

"Shh!" One of the ghosts who actually had common sense shushed them. "People are sleeping!"

"Hey, what's going on here?" Filch, still sleepy and sluggish, stumbled from around the corner, pointing his candle at anything moving. Quirell quickly shrunk from sight.

"Sorry." The ghosts and paintings whispered, and Filch waved them off, telling them to keep it down. Quirell growled at the interruption, and hastily slipped away before someone realized that he was there.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N Oh my god I did not expect to get this many favourites and follows and, what I most especially love reading reviews! Thank you! :D  
**

 **I noticed the steady decline in quality for the last recent chapters...I'm trying!**

 **You may or may not have realized that I keep going back to old chapters and making some changes in them so it fits the next chapters, because honestly this fic is just for fun and had no planning at all, so if anything seems weird to you, go read the last few chapters, you might have read the unedited version or something :P**

 ** **Of course, this will not happen with future stories. I have so many ideas, it'll take a while to write them all!****

 ** **The next chapters may or may not have an even slower update time. I have gotten myself into a writing challenge with a friend :P You may or may not see the story posted here...but I do know that this challenge will take a really long time and will last over a year, so keep that in mind when you're waiting for new updates.****

 ** **Also, homework. I hate homework.****

 ** **Aaand I have to make art. And there are art trades and requests going on, so that's going to take a bit of time off me as well.****

 ** **okee now have this next piece of crap chapter I guess****

* * *

"It's ready." Fred grinned widely from ear to ear. His heart was thumping as he held up a small, round object slightly smaller than the size of a Snitch. It was hard and smooth, white with little flecks of red and blue, and a mysterious purple steam seemed to emit from it. This is it. This is what he and George had been creating for the past couple of months - taking longer than they expected due to lack of wands and access to magical materials. But they had done it. It is, indeed, ready. Ready for what? That will be the next part of their plan.

"It's bootyful." George, too, had the devious smirk similar to his brother. Oh, he could hear the epic background music getting louder and louder already.

"It better be." Fred scoffed. "We risked our lives going around school grounds trying to find ingredients. If it doesn't work then I will kill myself."

"If you kill yourself, I will kill myself too."

"And if we both die, then Hogwarts will be so dull everyone dies from boredom."

"And when Hogwarts dies then the rest of the magical community dies."

"And if the rest of the magical community dies, then Voldemort will rise."

"When that happens, the muggles will die too."

"And in the end everyone dies." The two brothers exclaimed simultaneously, breaking into uncontrollable giggles. Fred stopped, and began to question his life decisions.

"I think we're going a bit too far here."

"We can never go far enough, brother."

* * *

 **Last time...**

Harry's head hurt. A lot.

He was lying down, on a bed, it seems. Whatever room he was in had a funky smell, and everything he could hear was weird and slurred and distant. His forehead was throbbing with an annoying pain, but he could feel something wrapped around it. His vision was all black - then he realized that it was because his eyes were closed and he should probably...um, not close them. Yes, that has a chance of making him not blind.

Harry blinked, whatever light outside had completely blinded him, much to his dismay, and all he could see was white splotches for a whole ten seconds. He caught his breath, wondering if he was dead or not.

"Oh...you're awake." It was the voice of the one and only, Madam Pomfrey, who, as usual, sounded tired and pissed at everything existing.

"W-where am I?" Harry stuttered, knowing full well where he was but wanting to imitate what everyone does in movies.

"You know full well where you are." Madam Pomfrey's blurry face came into his vision and she rolled her eyes. Harry gasped, realizing that literally everyone around him had mind-reading powers.

"R-right." Harry stammered, trying to breathe. His ears still rang. "What happened?"

"You fainted. From shock." Madam Pomfrey sighed, moving to the other side of the large room to gather some potions. "And that little ball - that Snitch of yours - it hit you on the head. It's nothing serious though, if you're feeling well enough, you can leave."

"Yeah, but...why am I alive again?" Harry, suddenly remembering what had happened at the Quidditch pitch, shot up from his bed. He winced, feeling both his stomach and his head lurch. He put a hand on his head, feeling the familiar texture of cloth. It was damp; and when he took a look at his hand again, there were traces of red liquid.

The witch didn't notice Harry freaking out over his head though. She hesitated, and looked away.. "Your friend saved you, Harry."

"Friend?" Harry tilted his head. Was the thing he landed on...not a thing, but a someone?

It was not until Madam Pomfrey pointed to something in his direction did Harry notice the bed next to him. Harry's throat suddenly felt dry, and for a second he stopped breathing. In the bed lay a kid, with a small chick nestled in his pure white hair.

"G-Gilbert?"

...

"And what did she say?" Ron murmured, eyes wide. Harry had just been let out (or shooed out) of the hospital wing, his head unwrapped and exposed, and he and Ron were heading to the Gryffindor common room to meet up with Hermione, and, according to Ron, a very anxious Matthias.

"She...said that Gilbert was fine...just had a couple broken bones and stuff." Harry narrowed his eyes. "Though she did mention that his body repelled the magic when she tried to heal him..."

"Wait, so will he be fine?" Ron asked, getting worried.

"Well...she said he was healing pretty fast by himself...like a monster, as she described him." Harry tilted his head and squinted. "I always thought there was something wrong with Gil."

"You too?" Ron blurted out. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I feel like there's something off with him...like he doesn't belong here, somehow."

"But he does, because he's clearly a wizard, so..."

"It's all so complicated." Harry paused, realizing that he had reached the portrait lady at the Gryffindor tower entrance. They said the password, and the painting swung open, revealing the deep dark pit of hell- er, the common room. It was already late, around ten, Harry supposed, so it seems that most people had gone to bed. There were a few students lingering around the common room, but they looked to tired to even care about Harry at the moment. In the corner of the room sat Hermione, who was doing homework...or extra reading, they never knew, and Matthias, who was playing wizard chess against himself. It seems that he was losing.

The second Harry had climbed into the room, the blond boy had already hopped out of his seat and glanced nervously yet hopefully at Harry. But, Harry assumed, when he didn't see the familiar smiley face of the Great Potato Albino, his face fell. Matthias trudged back to his seat and plopped down lazily on the chair.

"Harry!" Hermione, unlike Matthias, beamed when she say Harry, and got up to greet him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Harry smiled slightly, still thinking about Gilbert. "Madam Pomfrey said that it's nothing serious."

"Oh, thank Merlin." Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. She looked like she wanted to press on more, but decided against it, and instead she blurted out,"I thought you were _dead_."

"Honestly, me too. But Gil..." Harry trailed off.

The room went silent. Hermione looked at Harry as if to urge him to continue, and Ron turned away to avoid the electric blue eyes of a certain blond in the room.

"I..." Harry cleared his throat. "Gilbert is still unconscious."

"Oh." Matthias murmured half-heartedly, so soft that Harry almost couldn't hear him. And that was it, the only word he said. He adverted his gaze out the window and stared at the area outside the Hogwarts castle with glazed, unfocused eyes. His face held no expression or trace of concern, but his eyes said much more. Harry stared at the Dane's back, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He had always seen Matthias as a generally happy person, so Harry knew that Matthias cared deeply for Gilbert when he even refused to talk. The black-haired boy mentally kicked himself. If he had held on to his broom for just a few more seconds, maybe all of this could be avoided.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts when Ron pulled out a chair for him. They both sat, and Hermione pushed away her books and quills and homework to give full attention to Harry and Ron.

"So what happened?" Harry began, breaking the silence. "After I fainted, I mean."

"They canceled the Quidditch match. So no one won." Hermione shrugged. Ron looked slightly disappointed, and muttered something about being 'so sure that we would win'.

"But that doesn't matter." Hermione butted in, jabbing a pencil in Ron's mouth. The poor redhead yelped and narrowed his eyes at the bushy-haired girl. "But you're safe, and that's alright."

"Yes, everything is fine because Harry is safe.." A mutter sounded from a certain Dane. "It's always just him. He's the Boy Who Lived, after all. He's the person everyone cares about."

"I..." Harry suddenly felt worse.

"Of course." Matthias, half dazed, pushed himself up to stand. "That's all they talk about. Is Harry Potter okay? Did he catch the Snitch?"

"Well, yes, I mean-" Hermione started, but abruptly stopped when the blond turned to her, his eyes, unblinking, dazed in despair.

Matthias took a deep breath, still staring out the window into the distance. "No one cares about the guy who saved Harry Potter from dying. No one cares about the guy who has more serious injuries, because he is not Harry Potter."

"Hey." Ron stood up defensively, even though Matthias stared right through him, and didn't notice his movements at all. "It's not his faul-"

"I don't know anymore." Matthias's voice sounded dead and raspy, dripping with venom. "I'm going to bed."

The blond half-walked, half-dragged himself up the stairs to his room without another word. He slammed the door shut - hard. A few groans sounded from the other rooms, and Cormac McLaggen even opened a door to see what was going on, but left afterwards when seeing that even the Golden Trio themselves looked confused.

"What's up with him?" Ron hissed, and Hermione and Harry exchanged glances while staring at the door their friend had disappeared into.

* * *

The next day was a bright, beautiful and slightly warmer Sunday. Harry woke up feeling determined to go on his day without getting murdered by brooms, opening his window to smell the fresh, crispy air. It seems that he was the last to wake up; all the beds were empty so Harry assumed that everyone had already gone down to eat breakfast. Harry hurried down; now that he had full rest, he had much more energy and was in the mood for conversation.

However, when the first-year opened the door to the Great Hall, he was surprised to see that it was much more...quieter than usual.

Conversation had ceased dramatically since the last time Harry had been there - and a quick look around the room instantly told Harry why. Sitting in the Hufflepuff table, with a cloud over his head, was Matthias. His shoulders were slumped, and he ate his meal in complete silence. His Hufflepuff friends - Tino and Berwald, were nowhere to be seen. Sitting across from the Dane was Emil, who looked more gloomy and out of place than he usually did. Emil today looked especially unhappy, and he kept glancing anxiously around the room as if there was a time bomb ticking somewhere and he needed to find it in time.

Harry's happy mood dropped. Taking a deep breath, he marched silently to the Griffindor table, which was the most muted of all the tables. Even Fred and George, on the other side of the table from Harry, looked shaken and had lost their smiles. The first-year sat down next to Ron and Hermione, who kept peeking over to the Hufflepuff table. They spoke in hushed whispers about their concerns for an albino and a blond, while Harry listened intently, too afraid to bring up the strange feeling he got from those two since the beginning.

That afternoon, Hagrid ushered the Golden Trio into his hut. At that time of day, Matthias was nowhere to be seen (though some students, when questioned, mentioned the library.) Harry and Hermione didn't think that it was a good idea to speak to him that day anyway, so it was just them and Ron, heading to the small hut by the Forbidden forest, bracing themselves to endure the tea and rock cakes that will most definitely be served. Hagrid was a good man with good intentions but sometimes one could not help but question his life decisions. **(A/N Just like my science teacher, _cough._ Mr. Allan, if you're reading this, please, for the love of God, we've already written that _same_ lab report _six times,_ don't make us do it again)**

"It was Snape." Ron explained to both Hagrid and Harry. "We saw him cursing your broom."

"I went to stop him but it was too late." Hermione continued, waving her wand around to demonstrate.

"Rubbish. Snape would never do that." Hagrid wrinkled his nose and took a sip of his tea.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, probably wondering whether or not they should tell him about the giant ass dog that was somehow not destroying the entire school by now.

"Snape was trying to get pass that enormous dog in the third-floor corridor to get whatever it was guarding." Harry murmured to himself, not realizing that he had said it out loud and that Hagrid was giving him this horrified look.

"How'd ya know about Fluffy?" The giant man growled, receiving weird looks.

"Fluffy? The dog's name is Fluffy?" Hermione's eyes widened, in contrast to Ron narrowing his eyes. Harry sat there looking stupid.

"Wait, since when did we start talking about dogs?" Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

"Er...you mentioned it?"

"I didn't mention anything..."

"Uhm, yes you did."

"God damn it, you guys, stop reading my mind."

"We're not..."

"I _said_ , how'd you kids know about Fluffy?" Hagrid's breathing became faster, and his eyes swiveled around them fearfully.

"He's yours?" Hermione gaped at Hagrid, and Ron just looked aghast.

"Yup. Brought him off a Greek guy in a pub, lent it to Dumbledore to guard the-"

"Yes?" Harry eagerly leaned in, not realizing that he had just interrupted Hagrid, who, because of such interruption, was able to stop himself from rambling in time.

"Top secret."

"God damn it, Harry." Ron and Hermione said simultaneously. Said black-haired boy put his hands up defensively.

"Look, you kids ain't supposed to be knowing anything about-"

"But Hagrid." Hermione, the chatterbox of the group, piped up. "Whatever it is down there, Snape is trying to steal it."

"Rubbish." Hagrid repeated. "He would never do that."

"He was cursing the broom! I saw it with my own two eyes!" Ron protested, standing up abruptly, causing his chair to tumble to the ground.

"Hagrid, I know a jinx when I see one." Hermione said hotly. "You see, when there's a jinx you'd have to-"

"We all know how jinxes work." Harry, knowing that Hermione was going to lecture all of them for an entire hour, did a brave and honorable thing to do by interrupting the person who may or may not kill someone when interrupted. Luckily for everyone, it seemed that the girl was in no mood to argue, and she continued listening to the conversation in silence.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione. You're all mistaken. Mistaken, I tell ya. Snape wasn't trying ta kill anybody! Don't meddle around the business with Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel and you'll be fine-"

"Oh, so there's a guy named Nicolas Flamel?" Harry smirked. Hagrid slapped himself.

"Please kill me."

...

The three Gryffindor first-years left the old shaggy hut, feeling more accomplished than ever. Now they had a lead, they knew where to start so they can end Snape's horrible goals as soon as possible! Hermione was, of course, more determined than ever to sacrifice sleep time to go to the library. It never crossed her mind that this may or may not affect her mental health greatly. But Hermione is Hermione, and she doesn't give a fuck about stress.

The made their way back to the building, Hermione heading straight to research while Ron and Harry would take a step back and do homework or something. But just before anyone could advance anywhere, Ron hesitantly grabbed Harry's and Hermione's wrists and pulled them to a completely different direction of where they're supposed to go. Harry and Hermione just kinda eyed him.

"Ron, wha-"

"Shh." The redhead shushed them, and peaked at something from around the corner. "It's Malfoy."

"And?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. Ron shushed her again (which she did not appreciate, but kept quiet anyway)

The yells from around the corner were loud as fuck. It didn't take long to confirm that it was Malfoy and his goons - they sounded angry about something. Harry pushed a protesting Ron out of the way to see what was going on, and Hermione followed close behind, pressing herself flatly against the stone of the building.

"I cannot believe this shite!" Malfoy was complaining. "I can't believe he punched me!" Harry squinted - and saw one of the most terrifying sights he could have ever witnessed. Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's 'friends', were bleeding. One of them had a black eye and bruises all around his body, while the other had various cuts everywhere. Malfoy himself had a mix of both, and all three of them were bleeding excessively, and were, no doubt, in a lot of pain.

"I didn't know he kept a small blade in his sleeve..." Goyle mumbled, putting a hand over one of the small injuries on his arm.

Crabbe sniffed. "How the hell can he punch like that?"

"That damn Køhler! He thinks he can mess with me and get away with it!" Malfoy angrily hissed, stomping his foot on the almost frozen ground. "Damn him! Damn it all!"

Harry stiffened. Hermione's face flushed in horror, and Ron got closer to hear better, thinking in disbelief that perhaps his ears had conceived him.

"That mudblood will not get away with it, I tell you!" Malfoy continued, pointing to Crabbe and Goyle. He was throwing a tantrum like a young child, but Harry knew that this was serious. Hermione let out a growl from deep in her throat at the insult.

"You wait, Køhler! You wait and I will find a way to expose you for who you really are!" Malfoy took a deep breath. "You dark magician son of a bitch with your stupid dark magician friends!"

Harry's throat suddenly felt dry, and all his suspicions of Matthias and Gilbert and Professor Bondevik and the Hufflepuffs seem to jumble up in his head.

Dark magicians.

* * *

From the library table, Iceland could hear Denmark heave a long, tired sigh, before sliding the small cutter back into his sleeve. For a moment the boy hovered there, staring at the space where a bleeding Malfoy had last been, before shaking his head rapidly and turning around to the youngest of the Nordics. Denmark plastered a smile on his face - the kind that Iceland instantly knew was fake and forced - it said everything in his eyes, which are now as dull as his brot- Norway's.

Denmark marched back to the table where Iceland sat, sinking into a chair and picking a random book and staring into it meaninglessly - Iceland knew that he actually wasn't reading anything.

"Den, you went too far. They were only trying to provoke you. You know Malfoy." Iceland murmured, putting down a book to make sure there was no more trace of blood on Denmark's face.

The Dane remained silent.

"Well then." Iceland muttered.

This was hopeless. With Prussia more dead than he already is, Finland and Sweden taking Denmark's and Prussia's place in creepily stalking Harry and his friends, and their leader being completely useless in anything and everything, it was up to Iceland and him alone to work with Scotland to find the G8. On top of all these things, Iceland was starting to feel really stressed, because he kept feeling like he was missing something, but not knowing completely what it was. It was a hopeless, empty feeling that the young Nordic had been cursed with, and he hated that he had no one to talk to about it - nobody listens.

While looking through things in the library, Iceland had found things in the 'history' section. There were muggle history books in there, though Iceland had no idea why. But the books, in Iceland's mind, are a problem, since he had found several photographs of the G8 in there, and if someone decides to read one, this might lead to them finding out the existence of immortal beings, thus putting the nations in danger. The books should be burnt...but for now, Iceland couldn't do anything besides talking about them with Scotland.

Besides those photographs and the small bits of information about the generals and pilots in WW2, Iceland found no real books on the existence of nations and how to find them. Of course, they can look for more complex teleporting spells for magical creatures or otherworldly beings, but if they existed, they were probably shoved in the back of the shelf somewhere in such a huge library. Besides, even with a stronger spell, nations' bodies are too complex to be easily transported.

Long story short, still no progress. If they were too late to find the eight greatest nations of the world, everything will surely crumble and society will fall, causing panic and chaos and destruction. No one wanted any of those things.

Iceland groaned, putting his head on the table. This was really getting nowhere. His head was throbbing. Snowy is still stalking him as if trying to kill him. Norway is still trying to make him call him brother. God has bestowed him a cruel life.

"Ice, are you okay?" Iceland lifted his head to the familiar worried voice of a certain Dane that hadn't spoken for the last few hours. Iceland raised an eyebrow, wondering why he had decided to speak right now.

"I'm fine." The Icelandic responded. The Dane looked relieved, nodded, and continued staring at his book with empty eyes.

Iceland groaned. He was in no mood for work right now. Maybe he should read some fairy tales or something to cheer up. It's not because he's a kid! He just wanted something to clear his mind...for now.

Iceland got up from the table, and trotted over to the 'Myths and Legends' section of the library. It was a huge section, actually, with bookcases looming up high to the ceiling, making Iceland feel strangely nauseous. Maybe it was the size, who knows. Iceland's eyes briefly glanced around each part of the shelf, finally setting on a small, thick book hidden among other bigger books. The brown worn-out letters on the side read _Norse Tales_ \- it seemed interesting enough, so Iceland pulled it out of the shelf.

Immediately upon contact, the book let out a butt load of dust, making Iceland cough and cover his mouth. Does anyone every clean this place? Iceland felt tears stinging his eyes, due to the dust, and quickly shoved it back into the shelf, stepping back to breathe. His throat let out a low growl, and he turned to leave, having enough of the library for today. But as he was in the middle of that, something caught his eye.

It was located two shelves above the now less dusty booked he just picked up. It was quite small and thin, leather bound, with faded inked lettering. A piece of ribbon, a bookmark, hung out from it and dangled down. Iceland squinted, trying to make out the lettering, for it was too far away for him to reach.

The title read, _Nations_.

Interesting. Considering the fact that it's in the _Myths and Legends_ section.

Iceland, determined to get the book, made a mess of the library and pulled out most of the other books on the shelf to make a small makeshift staircase, taking him just high enough so he can stand on his tippy-toes and slowly pull the book out of the shelf. When he finally got it out, his poor arm had to deal with the whole weight of the huge thing, and he had to carefully set it down so it won't fall and kill his foot. He dusted it as much as he can, hastily fumbling with the other books to stuff them back where they belonged, and hurried back to his table to take a look inside.

Denmark warily lifted his head and squinted. Iceland plopped down on his chair after placing a big ass book on the table, coughing. Denmark raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes at the book that the younger nation had brought. Upon reading the title, all he thought in his mind was, 'what the fuck?'

Iceland let out one final cough and awkwardly clearing his throat, before leafing the book open.

* * *

"I'm telling you, 'Mione, it all adds up! Don't tell me you've never felt that unsettling aura when you've met them!"Ron hissed to them after they had slipped pass Malfoy and had begun trotting in the halls of the the castle. "They're trying to hide something, that's obvious enough, but now that Malfoy has said it, they're probably dark magicians!"

"I-" Hermione stopped in the middle of her sentence, and seemed to be considering it. "We can't be too sure and come to hasty conclusions like this!"

"Hermione, you sound like Matthias." Ron narrowed his eyes. "Maybe Matthias keeps saying that so we wouldn't guess who he really is!"

"Ron, maybe she's right. We can trust them a bit more, ya know?" Harry sighed, massaging his temples. "I mean, this is Malfoy after all, he's probably trying to spread false information of them again."

"He sounded serious, Harry. I don't think he was trying to annoy people like he usually does." Ron growled, crossing his arms, and refused to look at his friends straight in the eye.

"Well, guess what." Hermione mumbled and stopped walking. "We're right in front of the library, so before we can come to any more conclusions, why don't we read and research on dark magic?"

"Hermione, this is probably the most resonable thing you've said all day."

"Oh, shut up, Harry."

Harry, despite the situation, let out a small chuckle. "And we need to learn all we can about Nicolas Flamel."

"Right, Hermione can research on dark magic, Harry is gonna find something on Nicolas Flamel," Ron paused, "and I'm going to find and spy on Matthias and his friends. See ya later, guys."

"Well, what do you know." Hermione smirked when she opened the library door. "Matthias is right there."

Ron sighed.

...

As soon as they took a step into library grounds, they saw Matthias's ears perk up. Before anyone could do anything else, the blond boy had already abruptly stood up from his chair and stiffly marched to the far end of the library, not sparing a glance at the boy Emil, who was sitting across the table from him. Said Hufflepuff boy's face twisted into a sort of depressed and confused emotion that Harry couldn't quite understand.

Dark magician or not, Harry decided to sit next to the boy to keep him company, so hastily rushed to the shelves to find a book on Nicolas Flamel. Naturally, Ron had crept up to spy on Matthias rather than Emil, so the redhead had left Harry alone instead of sitting with him. After a few minutes of searching, Hermione approached Harry, telling him that all the books on dark magic were in the Restricted Section, and she would need a teacher's signature to get inside.

"We don't have a convincing story." Hermione was explaining. "We're not working on advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts yet, and that is probably the only reason people are let in."

"I can't find anything on Nicolas Flamel either." Harry scrunched up his nose. "Maybe books of him are in there too."

"Well, we'd need a way to get in then." Hermione tapped her chin, then something in her eyes flickered. "I'm going to find something on sneaking into places...here, in the library!"

Of course, the library holds the answer to everything possible. Harry groaned.

The dark-haired boy muttered a sarcastic 'good luck', but the bushy-haired girl was already off, racing from shelf to shelf, looking around hopefully. Harry sighed, bringing the palm of his hand to his face, which is also known as the fascinating art of facepalming. Facepalming, in this day and age, is known all throughout the universe, and many practice it to achieve the ultimate goal of becoming a professional facepalmer, which takes years of sweat and blood and hard work. Once one has officially crossed the line of non-facepalmer to master facepalmer, they will reach the next level of life, Nirvana. They will become higher beings and shall be treated like gods. Unfortunately, Harry is not a professional facepalmer, but still a good facepalmer all the same, due to all the shit his friends put him through.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. Hermione is Hermione, and he couldn't stop her. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes to no one in particular, and glanced back at the towering bookshelves. Well, even if there were accessible books in the restricted section, it wouldn't hurt to try to search the thousands of books here...

* * *

Christmas was coming, rolling in just a bit too slow, taunting Harry. Now the air was as chilled and crispy than ever, and several layers of pure white snow had covered up the once green grounds of Hogwarts. The lake was frozen, rigid, and every once in a while Tino, his 'husband' Berwald, and their little puppy who was almost as white as the snow itself can be seen running and cheerfully slipping and sliding along the ice. It looked fun, but it was much too cold for Harry to even leave the castle without freezing to death. The three Hufflepuffs didn't seem at all affected by the icy raw winter, so good for them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had continued to search the library in hopes of finding something, _something_ , about Nicolas Flamel. He weren't in any books with famous wizards, or famous muggle historical figures, as Harry found out when they looked through a book about old Muggle wars that Emil conveniently was reading too. Of course, they weren't stopping there, even after searching hundreds and hundreds of books. The process had become quite tedious.

Fred and George, of course, were up to something. One day, somewhere in mid-December, the two mischievous brothers had managed to make a huge explosion of purple, red, and blue right outside Harry's window. Before any teacher could react, Harry had seem them already bounding away, gleefully mouthing the words, It worked!' and cackling like the evil little devils they are. Harry narrowed his eyes at them, curious with what they were up to and what revenge they were throwing at Snape for confiscating the wands that they are now probably never going to get back. Whatever punishment Snape was receiving from the twins, Harry looked forward to it.

Not many owls came for the morning mail at this time. The ones that managed to fight through the harsh winds had to sit down and wait to be recovered, for their wings had froze almost solid, and they weren't in the right condition to by flying again anytime soon. Good ol' Hagrid helped nurse them, along with some other animal-loving students. Harry spotted Emil, who had become slightly more friendly with him the more they talked, among the crowd of owls. The boy, as usual, looked confused and out of place, and really, really troubled with something. He looked frantically from owl to owl, but can't seem to find whatever he was looking for. Harry assumed that his owl had the letter from his friend, who, seemed very important, since Gilbert and Matthias had been fighting over the letters since the start of the year.

Speaking of Gilbert, said albino had showed up about a week after Harry's recovery. The boy entered the Gryffindor common room when they were doing their usual homework - without Matthias, who was sitting on the other side of the room with the same large book he had been reading for months. Gilbert faced Harry and flashed him a grin - not the usual 'respect me because I'm awesome' grin, but a genuine, 'happy to be alive' grin.

The second he had opened his mouth, he was brutally suffocated by hugs from Matthias, who looked just as overjoyed as he was relieved. The two embraced for a second, before Matthias began to launch into a full speed conversation, going a hundred words a minute. Before Harry, Ron, or Hermione could even share any words with Gilbert, the two were already off, with Matthias carrying the enormous leather-bound book with him up to their room. Matthias pointed to the title of the book - 'Nations' Harry thought it said, but he wasn't too sure since he only got a small glimpse because they had already disappeared into the room. Later, when Harry himself was going to bed, he had walked pass the sleeping blond, and sure enough, the title of the book was, indeed, 'Nations'. Harry was about to open it, but Matthias's eyes rapidly shot open and gave him the scariest death stare in history that could even rival Berwald's. Harry muttered a curt 'sorry', and retreated to his bed.

That was the last time Harry even thought of the book - he was too excited for holidays to start. If it was Christmas, the freezing weather that was impossible to survive in was worth it, because Christmas is supposed to be a happy occasion! Until, of course, they had to go to Potions class, which is in the dungeon, making it possibly the coldest place on earth ever touched by mankind. Everyone had to huddle as close to their cauldrons as they can, which isn't very convenient when you realize that sometimes the stuff they brewed exploded or had funky smells and do not seem very safe.

Despite everything, Malfoy seemed to continue to pester him. After the whole Quidditch incident, it was very, very easy for him to tease the boy on not being able to even stay on his broom, and everyone seemed to laugh at his jokes. Of course, Malfoy wasn't stupid like that; he had to change things up a bit if people were supposed to be listening. So every once in a while, he would throw in some terrible insult about Harry not having a proper family.

"I do feel quite sorry," The blond boy was saying one day in his usual spot at the Slytherin table, "For the people who won't be going home to celebrate a happy Christmas because their family didn't want them." He looked straight at Harry as he was uttering those words, and the Gryffindor received laughs and jeers from all around the room, not just the Slytherins. Frankly, it was humiliating, and Harry did his best job to ignore them.

Harry did feel a little better though, when he heard that Matthias, Gilbert, and the Hufflepuffs weren't going back home either. It didn't matter if they were potentially dark wizards, Harry was just glad to have at least some people who he can consider friends - or in this case, some people who act like friends.

"I can't exactly go back home to anyone, since this is the only real family I've ever had." Matthias was saying, jabbing a finger at Berwald and Tino, who were laughing and playing with their dog on the ice (it seems that Tino was the only one doing the laughing though.) It was a particularly sunny day, And Harry and Ron had joined Matthias and his friends outside, where they sat on the ice and froze their asses off, while Hermione chose to stay inside to finish some leftover homework, and do a bit more researching on Nicolas Flamel and dark wizards. "Of course, I consider Emil and Nor-I mean, Bondevik to be family too."

"Hey...What about me?" Gilbert, who had gone a lot quieter since Quidditch, tightened his grip on the Dane's hand and snuggled deeper into his scarf. The albino seemed to be the only one of his weird friends who was affected by the cold. He was visibly shivering, and his skin had gone noticeably paler. He had stated once that it was a health condition, and it was the same thing when he was exposed to too much sunlight - though Harry never quite noticed it. How the boy healed so fast was beyond Harry, because even dark wizards can't utter spells when they are unconscious.

Matthias chuckled. "You're more of a friend." The Dane grinned to show he was joking. Gilbert just pouted like a spoiled child, and twisted his head away as if refusing to talk to him. This little movement made Ron, who was having a little snooze, stir a bit, but he kept his eyes shut and soon after, there were snores.

"Well, we are in a trio." Matthias shrugged. Harry tilted his head.

"The Awesome Trio." Gilbert gave a little smile, but then jokingly frowned. "But I prefer the Bad Touch Trio, ya know, the other group of friends I'm in. But this time you're not in it."

The three shared a laugh, and it seemed to resonate with the laughs of Tino from way in the distance in the frozen lake, where he and his 'husband' had wandered off to. And after that, were was a comfortable silence, with Harry just left alone with his thoughts and Gilbert shifted his eyes around, admiring the snow. Matthias leaned back against the tree that Harry was slouching on.

"By the way, Gilbert." Harry blurted out, absentmindedly drawing circles on the snow with his little gloved fingers. "What about your family?"

"Huh?" The boy turned to Harry, and a dark veil suddenly clouded his eyes. His grip on Matthias's hand visibly became tighter than ever. "My family?"

"Yes..." Harry uncomfortably shifted into a better sitting position, wondering if he had asked something wrong. The albino didn't seem to be happy with what he said.

"Gilbird." Gilbert muttered, fidgeting around with a stick he found on the ground. "I love Gilbird, he's an awesome friend."

Harry tilted his head curiously. "But what about blood-related people?"

Gilbert frowned, and closed his eyes, seemingly shrinking. "My brother is the only person I ever had." He said flatly. Harry's stomach did a double turn. "He went missing, along with two of my other friends." The boy turned away, avoiding Harry's gaze.

"Oh..." Harry muttered, deciding not to question it further.

...

When the holidays finally started, all of Harry's concerns seemed to vanish. Even after Hermione told him and Ron to look further on Nicolas Flamel, he was too busy relaxing to even think about it. He let the whole dark wizard thing slide - he was happy to just have company. The dorms were almost empty, though the rooms wasn't, since Matthias and Gilbert and Ron, despite having a family to go home to, still stayed. Still, it was just enough to get good armchairs and good spots by the fire in the common room, which Gilbert seemed to enjoy very much. The albino would sit there whenever he can, his little bird nestled in his hair, also warming up.

They sat around eating whatever they wanted, undisturbed. Marshmallows, bread, crumpets, scones, fried chicken, roast beef, literally anything. Gilbert had not yet completely recovered from the traumatic experience at the Quidditch match, it seems, but he still overdid himself by disappearing into the Hogwarts kitchen and coming out with various potato dishes. He wasn't supposed to be in the kitchen, but he was in the kitchen anyway, because he is awesome.

The Hufflepuffs had opened up to Harry and Ron quite a bit. They would come along to sit with Harry at the Gryffindor table, now that no one was there to object. Even the few other students who stayed for the holidays came to sit at the Gryffindor table, despite them not knowing each other, at least not very well. They lounged around and chatted happily, and Harry never felt so full and content with anything in his life. He thought that the holidays were going to be quite boring and lonely - he was wrong.

Christmas Eve finally came, and before bed, the Gryffindor first-years had prepared to sit around the fire in the common room as usual, playing wizard chess, since Ron had taught Harry how to play it and the poor skills he had needed to be used for _something_ ; but they were called to Assistant Professor Bondevik's room. At first, Harry was scared that the professor had found out about their suspicions on their friends practicing dark magic, but it turns out he was wrong, which was a relief. As Matthias pushed open the rickety half-broken wooden door on the Professor's room, they were greeted by a pleasantly warm breeze and the strong smell of hot, steaming coffee.

"Welcome." Bondevik smiled, but not really. His eyes seemed to be smiling though, and Harry took this as a good sign, for it was different from his usual icy stare. His room was, despite the condition, warm and snug, even though Matthias had mentioned that Bondevik liked the cold. Maybe the professor had already prepared the room for their visit.

Next to the door that they had opened was a small basket that was seemingly used as a bin, and against the wall was a small wooden desk with various muggle gadgets that Harry hadn't even toughed before. There wasn't enough room on the desk for everything Bondevik had, so some stuff were strewn across the room or in a neat pile next to the desk. In the corner of the room was a narrow, poorly constructed bed that could topple down any minute. The mattress did not look soft at all, and the bedsheets were so torn they could have arranged random bits of string onto the bed and it would look no different. Is this what Bondevik had to go through every day? It seemed a bit inconsiderate of whoever was in charge of rooms in Hogwarts.

Bondevik gestured to the floor and his bed, which Harry realized were the places where they were supposed to sit, since the only chair in the room was the pile of wood in the corner that could barely be considered a chair. Matthias immediately plopped down on the bed, spreading his arms so they touched the corners, and called dibs on the whole thing. Berwald glared, Hanatamago barked, and Tino just laughed merrily at the Dane's antics before sitting down next to said blond. Bondevik looked like he wanted to say something about the whole situation, but it seems to be in a good mood, so he kept quiet.

Harry himself was about to take a place on the floor, but Ron grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the tiny bed where Matthias flopped like a dying fish. They all squeezed in so they could still face Professor Bondevik, who had gotten out of his own chair and began handing out cups of coffee to the eleven-year-olds.

"T-thank you, Professor Bondevik." Harry stuttered, accepting his cup. Are kids even supposed to be drinking coffee? Is this special wizard coffee? Should he trust the person who may or may not be a dark wizard?

"It's Lukas, when I'm in a good mood." Again, Bon-Lukas smiled, but not really. Harry nodded, and sniffed his coffee before drinking it. It smelled like regular coffee...but if he died the next day from dark magic poison...he didn't want to think about it in such a happy occasion. In the end, he only took a small sip, hoping that it won't kill him, just to make Bondevik happy/not suspicious of Harry.

Harry had never tasted coffee before, but now that he did, he decided that he didn't like it because it was so bitter. Gilbert declined the coffee and instead took out a small zip-lock bag full of mysterious yellow foamy liquid that may or may not be beer. Emil had already finished the whole hot boiling cup, somehow without burning his tongue, and Matthias and Berwald were already halfway through it. It seems that even Berwald was a competitive person, judging from the fact that he and Matthias were trying to see who could finish it faster. Both of them were having some problems that one would have when rapidly drinking sizzling hot liquid, so soon after, Matthias began jumping around the room in a mad frenzy, trying to cool down his tongue. He knocked Tino's coffee out of the his hand, and accidentally stepped on Emil's face.

Ron watch all the chaos unfold, quietly and slowly sipping his own coffee, which he seemed to enjoy.

They finally said goodbye to Bondevik at eleven p.m - Matthias didn't want the assistant professor to get in trouble for keeping students up for so late. They walked down the halls in a comfortable silence, with Matthias occasionally putting a hand over the bruises and cuts which are all over his body after Tino decided to make mince meat out of him. Harry went straight to bed, tired after a long day of hearing Bondevik telling Emil not to kill people in front of The Boy Who Lived. He drifted off to a dreamless sleep, not expecting any presents at all the next day.

There were a pile of presents on the foot of his bed, with packages of various sizes and decorative paper. Of course, the pile wasn't as big as Ron's, as Harry found out as he hastily threw his clothes on, but it was still quite a surprise. Gilbert's own bed only had a single wrapped box next to it, and it formed a lump in Harry's throat to realize that even he got more than Gilbert.

"Merry Christmas!" Said German (who claimed to be Prussian) and Gilbird both chirped cheerfully, at the same time, thus indicating that they were possessed by the Weasley Twins again. Ron yawned sleepily and smile at Harry, giving him the thumbs-up and a merry Christmas wish. Harry grinned back joyfully, and returned his own merry Christmas. He glanced at the other pile of untouched presents next to a certain Dane's bed.

Matthias's bed was empty, like it had always been every morning since he had found that one book that he kept carrying around. The book, a large, leather-bound one, seemed to be the main topic of conversation between him, Emil, Tino, Berwald, and occasionally Lukas when he passes by them. Harry didn't know what was so important about it, but he had a suspicion that it had something to do with dark magic (which was a term he began using quite often these past few days. Better be prepared for anything.)

Harry turned his attention away from Matthias's whereabouts, for now, and focused on opening his presents. Ron immediately began tearing paper, and little pieces of them went flying everywhere. It was an effective way to keep Scabbers busy for a while, trying to swat it out the hair. This reminded Harry of the Hufflepuff's existence, since Tino's dog, Hanatamago, would love to play with this paper.

From across the room, as Harry was opening up his presents, Gilbert took a long look at the one present he got. He then carefully tore the tape off without ruining the paper, which surprised Harry, because Gilbert seemed like the kind of person who would instantly rip stuff up. The German gingerly set the paper aside to observe what was inside the actual box. It was a small bottle of...beer. Gilbert smiled softly, and turned back to the wrapping paper. He then began to assemble it back onto the box.

"What're you doing?" Ron asked, his head perking up when Gilbert began taping the paper.

"I just want the paper back on the box." Gilbert replied, placing the now perfectly wrapped box on his bedside table.

"Why?"

"Because I want to remember it." Gilbert eyelids drooped as he stared at it. "Because receiving the present is more important than the present itself."

"Oh." Harry muttered, because he had completely forgot that Gilbert only got one present. It didn't seem like Gilbert at all, honestly. Gilbert was loud and reckless, not quiet and delicate. Harry felt like he had seen a completely different side of the albino...

The dark-haired boy shook his head, trying to ignore the alcohol in Gilbert's hand that was obviously not allowed in the school, and focused on his own presents.

The top parcel on Harry's pile contained a flute, kindly hand-whittled by Hagird. Before Harry could try it, it was snatched out of his hands by a certain albino, who had jumped on his bed and creepily stalked Harry from behind. He still had his beer, clutched in his hand. Gilbert turned the carved wooden tool in his hand, examining it, and Harry left him to his business, expecting Gilbert to lose interest and give it back. Alas, he didn't. Gilbert's smile turned to a grin, and he started playing the instrument.

Harry wasn't quite sure what to think when Gilbert put his lips on the thing, but damn, Gilbert can play. Beautiful notes soared through the air, and Harry caught himself closing his eyes just to enjoy the music. It was a long, slow, soothing, yet sad tune, and Gilbert seemed really into it. Even Ron stopped his present-opening frenzy to listen to it. The albino continued this, and showed no indication of returning it anytime soon. Harry let him use it for a while, having a calm background music for opening his next presents.

The next few things were home-made chocolate fudge that came along with a hand-knitted Weasley jumper, which Harry was grateful for, for it seemed to have taken a long time to make. Hermione had given him a box of chocolate frogs, and Harry wasted no time in popping one into his mouth before going over to the next presents. The next one was from, surprisingly, Professor Bondevik of all people, who had wrapped up a set of Wizard chess for Harry, who, until now, had borrowed a fellow Gryffindor's wizard chess set. The next one wasn't even a wrapped present, from Gilbert. It was a small badge, carved from wood, in Gilbert's own handwriting that said 'stay awesome'. Harry suddenly felt bad for not getting the boy anything.

The parcel under that was a small one, from Matthias, and written on it was a small 'Merry Christmas'. It contained a miniature axe. Harry waved it around, and it shot out a few weak red sparks. Harry wasn't sure what it was supposed to be for, but he liked how it looked on his bedside table.

The last package, however, was the one that intrigued Harry the most. It was very light, almost as if it was just an empty box and Harry had been pranked. But he opened it anyways, just to see what was inside. Something fluid slithered to the floor like a snake. Harry picked it up, and it slipped and slid around in his hand, like water. Frankly, it looked quite peculiar and Harry wansn't sure whether or not he should completely trust it.

Ron's eyes widened and he gasped, dropping both Hermione's and Gilbert's present from his hand. Gilbert abruptly stopped his flute playing and turned to stare at it, completely entranced by the silver shimmering thing. Harry, confused, held it up to examine it, only for it to flow out of his hands and drop to the floor. Harry scratched his head, and tried again, gripping it tighter.

"I think I know what that is." Ron murmured, scrambling over to Harry, a look of complete awe on his face. "It's an Invisibility Cloak, very valuable! Try it on!"

Harry, not knowing what else to do, held the thing up and delicately slipped into it. It felt strange against his skin.

"IT IS! IT IS AN INVISIBILITY CLOAK!" Ron suddenly screamed. Gilbert jumped, and his only Christmas present slipped out of his hand and plunged to the ground. There was a loud crash as glass shards went flying and foamy, probably tasty beer splashed all over the floor. Gilbert stared at it, a distraught look on his face. Harry covered his mouth with his hands, and Ron looked shocked. The colour drained from Gilbert's face as he waved his hand at the two to go back to their business and got up to get his only towel to clean up the mess.

Harry turned back to the mirror to observe his body. He gasped when he realized that Ron was right, his entire body had disappeared.

"There's a note that came along with it!" Ron yelled as the note drifted off the cloak and fell to the puddle of beer and glass shards on the ground. Gilbert, who was in the process of wiping it up, picked up the now soggy note and gave it to Ron. The ink had ran because of its exposure to liquid, so it was all blurry and indecipherable.

"Well...shite." Harry huffed. Now he had no idea who had given the Cloak to him. He stared at the note that now had a blurry blob of black on it. Ron just poked and touched the cloak, admiring it.

"What's wrong?" The redhead looked up at Harry when everything went quiet.

"Nothing." Harry felt a mixture of curiosity and a strange, unknown feeling. Who had given him the cloak?

* * *

 **A/N Ah, sorry to cut this chapter short! It's a very boring chapter, since nothing happened, and I wish I could continue it but...I'm scared ya'll might lose interest of it because it's already over 9000 words long, and that's too much for one chapter! And I know how attention spans work, they don't last very long :v So I'll have to cut what is meant to be one chapter into two. Again, sorry!**


	13. Chapter 13

**WARNING: BLOOD AND GORE AND STUFFS**

 **A SECOND WARNING WILL BE PLACED BEFORE SAID BLOOD AND GORE SOOO...READ TILL THAT PART AND LEAVE IF YOU DON'T LIKE DAT STUFF**

 **...**

 **A/N: Aaaaaaaah thanks for the favs and follows and reviews! ^^ Ya'll are too nice!  
**

 **Eeeuuugh I've caught a cold, entered an art contest, not doing art (Imma paint a cover for this story but Norway looks dumb and Prussia looks like he has seen some shit), and finals are coming up r.i.p. I intended for this chapter to be published by Chirstmas, but I finished it earlier than I thought I will...**

 **Believe it or not, this chapter was even more bloody and gorey than it is, but my friend was like 'omgzz change dat lol', and so I did.**

 **Edit: Also, you may have noticed I have a cover for the story now! Took me some time to paint it. I'm not a good artist. More details can be found here on my Deviantart page, FrangipaniElephants. (You can type into Google, .com) Shame that this site won't allow links.  
**

* * *

"I cannot believe it." Iceland hissed when the small beam of light shot out from his wand and hit the wall ineffectively. The boy growled and muttered the spell again, but the beam was even smaller and weaker. Iceland growled, ready to break some shit.

"Ah, Ice, calm down." Denmark, who stood far away from the boy on the other side of the empty classroom, for obvious reasons, sighed and shook his head.

"Well, it's not working, damn it." Iceland grunted and moaned out the spell again through gritted teeth. Still no improvement from the last few times he did it.

"Maybe you're just weak." Denmark shrugged, but shrunk backwards when Iceland twisted his head to give him a bloodcurdling death glare that can rival Sweden's.

"He's right, you know, little brother." Norway called from the teacher's desk. "This book contains everything about the Personifications, aka us, and how long have you lived again, Ice?"

"What does that have anything to do with anything?"

"My point is, we're immortal and complex beings, so obviously there should be complex spells that can only work on us. So yes, you would need a lot of strength, concentration, magic capacity, and basically everything else to be able to perform such tasks." Norway rolled his eyes.

"Why does a book like this exist anyway?" Finland, who was sitting next to Norway, held the book up as if examining it for non-existent hidden messages. "It does a bad job at explaining what nations are as living things, but a lot of these spells are confirmed to work, right Nor?"

Norway nodded and narrowed his eyes at it. "I don't know too, Fin. Maybe it was written by a human long ago, when nations were still a big hot thing that everyone knew about before our governments decided to hide our existence from our people?" **  
**

"Likely." Finland flipped through the pages. "But Nor...it has to be burnt."

"It should be, but if it was, we wouldn't know all these spells, now would we?" Norway had Finland fixed with an icy gaze. The boy, who was so used to being a lot taller, now shrunk in his chair due to size intimidation alone. Norway continued, "But this is surprisingly convenient, as it is exactly what Scotland wants us to find."

"Seems fishy." A certain Swede spoke for the first time that day.

"You...have a point." Finland exhaled.

"But I'm taking the chances." Norway eyed the book hopefully. "The spells in here are powerful and practical, if I remember correctly."

"Speaking of which, Nor, why can't you do the spell? You're experienced with magic, and better than the rest of us!" Iceland yelled after the same weak sparks came from his wand for the thousandth time.

"Oh, trust me, brother, I tried. Why do you think I borrowed that book from you for a whole week? Why do you think there were totally not suspicious lights emitting from the space under my door?"

"I'm not your brother." Iceland replied almost immediately, and went back to trying and failing to do spells that are too damn hard for him.

"Well, why can't you do these spells?" Finland tilted his head questioningly, accidentally being so adorable that Sweden blushed.

"I'm not strong enough. A lot of these spells require the cooperation of more than one wizards."

"More than one _good_ wizards." Denmark retorted from the other side of the room. "Because we're more than one wizard, and we don't seem to be doing shit."

"Because a certain Dane in this room is an idiot."

"Hey!"

* * *

After a while, the shock from getting an Invisibility Cloak dwindled, and before long, Harry found himself being dragged outside his room by no other than the Twins, Greg and Forge, as they jokingly called themselves that morning when they wore each other's Weasley jumpers that conveniently had the first letters of their name on them. They beamed when they saw that Harry was wearing a Weasley jumper too, but their smile quickly faded when they realized that their mum made Harry's jumper better than theirs because he wasn't family.

Fred (or was it George?) managed to stuff the small maroon jumper on the protesting Ron's head while George (or was it Fred?) rushed to catch up with Prefect Percy to annoy him/force him to wear the thing that their mother had kindly made for them. The twins laughed merrily, and Harry and Ron couldn't help but join in while Percy sulked because he didn't like the jumper. Gilbert called out from the other room that at least he received a jumper, to which Percy huffed and rolled his eyes before being pulled out of the common room by a certain pair of brothers.

The Great Hall was, as usual, almost empty. Instead of the usual four house tables and teacher's table, a single large table sat in the middle of the room. There were that little students. Such a shame too, the decorations were up - enchanted evergreen trees stood tall and proud with ornaments and animated snowmen walking around merrily, while bewitched mistletoe and fairy lights hopped around. Occasionally deer would phase through the walls and dance around before leaving again, making the few students who were there share a smile. The ceiling made the illusion of falling snow that spun and glided around the area and made everything look jolly and bright. It was far better than the tacky Christmas lights the minuscule fake tree the Dursleys had in their house. Harry wished Hermione was here to see it.

Harry sat down on a chair, saying good morning to Professor Dumbledore, who sat in the head of the table having what seems to be a nice, lighthearted conversation with Professor Flitwick. Ron sat down right next to him, while the Weasley brothers dragged Percy away from his usual spot at the table to sit with the rest of the family. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled when he gave each student a 'Good morning' and 'Merry Christmas'.

"Dig in, dig in!" The old man laughed pleasantly, and Ron wasted no time to enthusiastically down his meal of cinnamon rolls and Christmas-themed cookies. Percy hesitantly picked up a Wizard Cracker, which, to Harry's surprise, shot up above their heads exploded in a cloud of blue dust. A small remembrall fell from the sky and landed on the table with a clink before bouncing off and rolling to the floor, while the cracker settled peacefully back in Percy's palm. Fred and George chortled and Ron couldn't help but giggle.

"Wizard Crackers! They give you a random object when you pick them up!" Fred wheezed between coughs and snorts.

"Did you honestly forget that?"George snickered, before howling with laughter, unable to contain himself. Percy just scoffed and rolled his eyes, then shrunk down in his seat, embarrassed. Looking away, the Prefect nibbled on the cracker. The Remembrall was picked up by Fred, who handed it to George, who threw it into a random direction. It landed perfectly in Tino's hand, glowing red. The blond chirped a thank you, and wandered off wondering what he had forgotten.

Just then, the large mahogany doors flung open and a few certain dark wizards marched in. Matthias now seemed way smaller compared to Assistant Professor Lukas Bondevik, whose hand he was holding. The Professor's other hand was gripped by a small Emil, who stumbled unsteadily along with everyone else. Tino and Berwald looked the most ridiculous, both wore matching Santa suits. Gilbert was nowhere to be seen.

Lukas, surprisingly, didn't sit down with the Headmaster, but instead chose a seat next to his younger brother who claimed that they were not siblings; no one believed Emil because of the striking similarities between him and the assistant professor, so the boy looked unhappy the whole time they were there. Tino found himself sitting on Berwald's lap; the larger boy didn't seem to protest. Matthias didn't even sit down before pulling a Wizard Cracker – it exploded in his face and he let out a shrill girly scream that made everyone's ears bleed. He received a set of Wizard Chess. The blond wasn't particularly interested though, so it was handed to and accepted by Bondevik.

The morning breakfast feast continued, the remaining people's chattering loud enough to rival the noises in the Great Hall on a normal school day. The students especially enjoyed the Crackers, and had competitions over who can throw them in the air the highest before they exploded into smoke. Everyone was shocked when the great Matthias beat Bondevik in the game. Bondevik's eyes were filled with a bloodthirsty need to kill the boy for winning, while a certain pair of twins laughed their hats off when four white mice fell from Harry's cracker and crawled up Emil's exposed neck. The Icelandic did not look pleased with this.

After a long morning of trying to stop Tino from murdering Matthias over the last Wizard Cracker, the students headed out the Hall, content and filled to the brim with delicious food. They pulled open the doors – to reveal and tired-looking Gilbert who was having a particularly bad day. He didn't even say good morning to his friends; the albino just muttered something about 'talking to the ghosts down the hall' and dragging himself to the leftover food. Harry felt slightly sorry for him, but Matthias had offered to stay behind to keep the German company, so Harry was taken outside by Fred and George.

The students spent the rest of the day pelting each other with snowballs. Tino and Berwald and their dog Hanatamago banded together to build a fort. Harry didn't even know how they managed to make a snowy structure bigger than Hagrid's hut, but, come on, at this point it's normal. They probably used their magic. Maybe not dark magic, but definitely something that they had never learned in class before and they still knew it. Harry plans to sneak into the Restricted Section of the library in one way or another to uncover this mystery once and for all. But now wasn't the time for that; so he tried as much as possible to enjoy his holiday and-

Something cold and wet hit him on the back of the head. Harry furiously turned around to see a giggling pair of twins. The dark-haired boy smiled.

"You've messed with the wrong first-year."

...

"They seem to be having lot of fun." Prussia, who had finished his breakfast composing of a single cinnamon bun, was now sitting outside the castle, holding a jar of magic blue fire. The wind was strong that day, so Prussia had extra jackets on, and Norway had trudged away from the snowball fight for a bit to conjure him a mat to sit on. He was then promptly ignored by everyone as they had their lively and slightly aggressive fights.

"You wanna join them?" Denmark, who was sitting next to him, asked. The blond wore jeans and a t-shirt, but no one questions it.

"It's too cold." Prussia mumbled, snuggling deeper into his black jacket with the fluffy hood. Gilbird, who was snuggling in that area, perked up and gave the albino a small peck on the cheek that represented a kiss. Gilbert smiled softly."But I like to watch humans have fun."

"You're technically a human too, ya know." Denmark muttered as he felt Prussia's grip on his hand, once again, get tighter.

"No." Prussia whispered coldly, avoiding the blond's gaze. "I'm not."

...

Harry entered the Great Hall that evening, soaking wet and freezing cold, his teeth chattering and the layers upon layers of clothing he had on never seemed to be enough. Thankfully, the open fireplace in the Hall was enough to warm up the enormous room, and soon enough, people stopped shivering. The dark magicians didn't look quite happy to be in the heat, and Matthias claimed that it was too hot. Gilbert was just happy to be alive.

The Christmas dinner that day was amazing. Harry ate everything he saw, from roasted turkey and boiled potatoes to chipolatas and rich gravy. They even had flaming Christmas pudding - because safety issues totally do not exist, apparently. Then there were more Wizard Crackers - Harry finally realized why they had so little in the morning, they were being saved for the evening feast. After the ordeal, Harry ended up with some every-flavoured beans, a grow-your-own-wart kit, and luminous balloons that were thankfully not explodable.

Lukas had brought up an ancient Wizard Chess set that looked like it had been through hell and back, with each piece filled with scratches and burns and battle scars, and, hell, there were even some spots where it looked like someone had shot at it with a gun. The King in the set had an especially large slash right down the middle, as if someone had chopped it with a knife. It was revealed to Harry later that A) the set was very, very old, and B) A dude named Alfred attacked the pieces when he first saw them because he thought they were being possessed by ghosts. But none of that mattered, because they had a fun time playing the game anyway, and the chess pieces were at least more friendly and trustworthy than the ones given to Harry as a Christmas present.

It grew especially chaotic when Gilbert challenged Hagrid to a beer-drinking contest - Hagrid didn't even realize what the first-year was doing before chugging gallons and gallons of the stuff. After a while, Gilbert had fallen asleep Matthias's shoulder - said blond also red and drunk. Matthias began hugging Gilbert and singing at the top of his lungs. Hagrid gave Professor McGonagall a drunken kiss; said Professor giggled and kissed him. Dumbledora the Explora was too busy hopping around with a flower bonnet, like the pretty pink princess he was, to notice any of this happening.

Fred an George pulled Harry to the side and, after they made sure that no one was looking, the two showed the first-year a small, round object about the size of the Snitch. It had colourful little specks in it, and reminded Harry of a jawbreaker he saw Dudley sucking on sometimes. Apparently, it was an explosive similar to fireworks that the Weasley twins had made by themselves without the use of a wand, just to fuck with Snape's brain. It looked pretty cool, but they, of course, didn't use it in front of Dumbledore. They handed one to Harry, though, 'for emergencies'. Harry, not knowing what to do with it, pocketed it anyway.

When dinner was over and everyone was full and happy, each person headed back to their own House towers, tired after a long, fun day. Harry settled down on the couch in the Gryffindor common room and tried and failed to beat Ron in a game of Wizard Chess. Then they'd enjoyed tea and bread and crumpets while watching Fred and George running around the room like rabid dogs because they had stolen Percry's Prefect badge. To say the dude was pissed is an understatement.

It was not until Harry plopped his butt down on his mattress and everyone else except a missing Gilbert were snoring when he remembered something, something that had been nagging him in the back of his mind the whole day but he chose to ignore it. The Invisibility Cloak - and whoever had sent it and for whatever reason. Harry didn't know, but one thing that was for sure was - it was his now, and he will use it. Suddenly, Harry was wide away and standing up. Hogwarts - the entire building - was open up to him to explore!

Harry whipped out the little sliver of water woven into silk that was the Cloak and slipped into it like he had done so in the morning. He peaked into the mirror, and sure enough, he didn't see himself in it. Ron stirred in his sleep. After some thought, the boy decided not to wake the redhead up. Hurriedly picking up a lamp, Harry pushed open the room's door as quietly as he can and began tiptoeing down the stairs and out the portrait hole, trying to stop himself from giggling at the Fat Lady, who was scared out of her wits.

Harry crept down the halls as quietly as he can, thinking about what he was going to do and where he was going to go. Then it hit him. Of course! The library, to search for anything having to do with Nicolas Flamel! And while he's at it, he should probably find some stuff about dark magic as well. Harry shuddered when a cool wind flew from an open window that wasn't supposed to be open, but he was too busy examining the moonlight and shadows just in case a person was there. Maybe some idiot decided it would be a good idea to walk around a castle filled with ghosts and monsters at night. Oh, wait...

Harry almost jumped into a suit of armour when he heard voices coming from around the corner, echoing within the empty hallway. To his shock, it sounded like a certain albino who Harry had not seen since he almost killed the boy by pulling a large Bludger out of a Wizard Cracker. And he was having a conversation with some other familiar voice that Harry couldn't quite place his finger on. Curiously, the black-haired boy lurked just around the corner to observe what was going on. Forget the library for now, Harry told himself. If he was lucky, he would hear something about the dark wizards!

"-and a little bird told me about your visit to the Hospital Wing." One of the ghosts were saying. Prussia raised an eyebrow and faced Gilbird, who had sat himself down on the albino's shoulder.

"Really, Gilbird?" The first-year sighed. "People can understand your chirping all this time and you never tell me?"

"Not that bird!" The second ghost next to the first one giggled. "And not a even a literal bird."

"Oh." Prussia muttered.

"Anyways, as I was saying..." The fist ghost continued, but stopped. "Look, kid, I'm going to be frank with you here. How the hell did you survive that?"

"I..." Prussia stopped dead in his tracks. How was he supposed to explain that?

"Easy on him, man." The second ghost rolled his eyes. "Excuse my friend, hes blunt like that."

"Please answer my question." The first ghost shoved the second out of his way.

"Well...my friends always told me I had a monster healing ability!" Prussia faked a smile and rubbed the back of his head.

"Oh, monster, you say!" Prussia jumped when the painting behind the ghosts was suddenly occupied by the figure of an old witch, with her pointed hat and a permanent snarl. "Monster is right, child!"

"T-that's not what I meant!" Prussia took a step backwards, panicking under the confrontation. "Madam Pomwhatshername healed me!"

"Of course she did." The painting rolled her eyes. "I visited a friend who lives in the Hospital Wing, and I know she did not heal you. At all."

"She didn't?" The first ghost narrowed his eyes and began to circle around Prussia, forcing the boy to turn along with him. The albino's back was against the wall and the painting hung above his head. The second ghost moved to flank the nation. Prussia was cornered.

"Unless...you never recovered?" The first ghost whispered, dead serious. Prussia stopped. And fixed his eyes upon the dead being floating in the air in front of him.

"...What." It wasn't even a question. The dissolved nation was just really, really befuddled.

"Kid, are you dead?"

Prussia blinked.

And blinked again.

"You must be a ghost, like us!" The ghost tilted his head. "There is no way you could have possibly survived the fall, and you probably didn't."

"Come on, he doesn't even look like a ghost!" The second ghost waved his hand. The first one squinted.

"Deathly pale and cold skin? Hoarse, dead voice? Dull, unseeing eyes? Do these things not scream that out to you?" The first ghost countered, making the second one back away.

"No, hell! Don't just assume things, he looks alive and kicking, right, kid?"

Prussia nodded, too afraid to move, his feet frozen. He backed up, almost shrinking into the wall. The two continued arguing as if the nation wasn't there, moving about back and forth, creating an opening. Prussia held his breath, and when the right time came, the albino took the chance and darted away and ran like a bat from hell. The screams from the ghost echoed behind him, and, to the boy's horror, the voice of Filch bellowed at them from somewhere.

The nation was making some significant distance from the ghosts and Filch when suddenly, he bumped, or rather, crashed headfirst into something. It felt soft. Very, very, soft.

Harry swore at himself under his breath when he toppled over, pain coursing through him - with Gilbert in top of him, panting and wheezing. The dark-haired boy could feel the albino's heart beating furiously. Gilbert scrambled over, yelping in shock, then fell down on his back next to Harry. He struggled to get back on his feet, but before he could do anything, and before Harry could react, something else was on him, a fingers curling around Gilbert's shoulder.

Gilbert, spluttering nonsense and trembling like an earthquake, reluctantly twisted his head to see Filch standing over him, his mouth curving into an ugly grimace as he growled. The German gulped. Harry, terrified and ignoring the pain on his shoulder, rolled away as far as possible until he hit the wall and remained still, watching. Even if the Cloak was thankfully still on him, it did not stop him from being solid.

"What have we here." Filch rumbled, staring straight into Gilbert's eyes. "It's you again."

"I-I can explain!" Gilbert put his hands up defensively, shrinking half his size and shaking violently.

"Of course you can. To Dumbledore, of course." Filch's smile twisted into a horrid, crazed grin. "Why that old geezer hadn't expelled you after the third time you've been found astonishes me. He must be so _patient_."

"Nein! Please don't take me to Dumbledore!" Gilbert cried, his eyes glistening as he fought back tears. He struggled to get out of Filch's tight grasp, but it was clear that he was not escaping anytime soon. Harry covered his mouth as he watched Gilbert flailing his arms helplessly, the weight of the situation finally setting over him when he realized that it was _he_ who had caused the boy to get caught.

"Nein!...Please don't!" Gilbert repeated, the tears finally breaking free and rolled off his cheeks and dripped to the ground. "Nein!"

Harry had never, in his life, seen the albino this way before. He looked so vulnerable, so weak and defenseless. And Harry could do nothing about it.

The Gryffindor boy was dragged away by his collar. Filch was having an easy time lifting his feet completely off the ground, his loud screams echoing eerily down the halls as he cried and stumbled to kick Filch, his voice was cracking horribly, and as he disappeared into the distance, Harry could see that his legs had become limp. Behind him, the ghosts had floated over to see what happened, but drifted away soon after they knew there was no way to save the boy. The lump in Harry's throat grew.

When it was all done, and all traces of the noises had gone, Harry let himself breathe. Suddenly, thoughts and questions flooded into his mind, his heart pounding rapidly. It was his fault that Gilbert had gotten into trouble. Gilbert was horribly weaker, worse than he looked. Maybe Gilbert wasn't a dark wizard after all. Maybe none of his friends are. Or his friends _are_ dark wizards, but the albino himself wasn't. Maybe Gilbert was dead, and just a ghost disguised as a human. What if...Harry had _killed_ him?

Harry shook his head rapidly, and rubbed his temples, trying to concentrate. His head was throbbing awfully, and it was the worst feeling in the world. He thought of the wise words of Gilbert. "Don't come to conclusions," as the albino would say. Maybe he was thinking too fast, and isn't able to process everything. He needed time to think. He needed research. He needed evidence. And most of all, Harry just wanted to relax and clear his head, but that's not going to help anyone.

The Gryffindor had had enough of exploring the castle and sneaking into the Restricted Section. He wanted to go back to his room and just go to bed to let his brain think properly.

Harry shakily pulled himself up and stood unsteadily, hovering by the wall for a moment, before taking a long, deep breath, peering into the corridor. Just walking for a few minutes would take him back to the portrait of the Fat Lady, for he had not gone that far from the Gryffindor Tower, but the boy, still traumatized by everything he had seen and heard, took some time to get there. He kept close to the wall and occasionally trailed a finger across it, just in case he lost balance due to his trembling legs.

His shoulders, still rusty and stinging from the fall, screamed at him to put his hand down, but he swallowed the pain and just kept walking. His head was hung low, and he didn't quite have the motivation to even watch where he was going - he was certain that the hallway was empty and if he just followed the walls, he would get back to his room.

Boy was he wrong.

Harry wasn't even able to process what was going on when he walked straight into the suit of armor. There werinte loud crashes and clangs, and he lay, dazed, on the pile of half-rusted metal that tangled around his limbs, his Invisiblility Cloak slipping off. The screams of Filch, for the second time that night, rang through his ears, and Harry hurriedly picked his cloak up and rushed into the first room with an open door that was closest to him, not having time to put his Cloak back on. Harry pressed himself against the wall, holding his breath, his heart thumping, as Filch raced pass the door of the room he was in. When the yells were completely gone, he allowed himself to breath.

The worse wasn't over yet, though, because Filch's voice floated along again, and this time he was accompanied by another set of footsteps.

"Another one of them? Don't these kids know when to sleep? God, they never appreciate the free time they have to rest! So ungrateful." Filch growled, his footsteps getting louder as he neared. Harry hastily fumbled around with his Cloak, before just throwing it over his body in hopes of it covering him up completely.

"They can't be far." And to Harry's horror, it was Snape who responded to Filch. What the hell was _he_ doing out here?

"Oh, I'm sure they're not." Filch grunted, holding his lamp up just a bit higher, and the light from it illuminated the room Harry was in. Harry's heart skipped a beat when he realized that his foot was still visible, and the boy briskly pulled it out from the light just in time as they passed the door. Covering his mouth to keep himself from screaming in fear, Harry watched as Filch and Snape stared right through him, not noticing his foot.

"Why's this door open?" Filch mouth twisted into a frown.

"Maybe this is where the intruder is." Snape whispered, his words curling into Harry's ears like a venomous snake ready to strike. Harry's heart was beating so loudly that he knew they would hear it and it would give him away. His breathing grew faster as Snape stepped closer to him, with narrowed eyes that contrasted to is own wide open ones, and Harry was too afraid to back away, because Snape might then see his uncovered foot. Filch shook his head.

"They're no one in there, so this is probably where the intruder was in before he opened the door, knocked down that suit of armor, and ran away in a different direction." Filch muttered, glancing around the hall. "We should continue walking."

Snape looked at Harry one more time. It looked like he was glaring straight into Harry's eyes, but Harry knew the Potions teacher was just looking through him. When Snape finally tore his eyes from Harry, closed the door, and began walking away with Filch again, the boy almost did his victory screech out loud. That was close! It was so close that his heart hurt from the thumping. It was so close that he was ready to die.

Harry punched himself lightly in the head, trying to get his nerves to calm down. That was probably the most intense and horrifying experience in his _life_ , and he did not wish to relive it again. He was still panting, and his head was still throbbing from the stress, but he was was not caught. For now.

It was only then that Harry stopped to look around the room he had landed himself in. It was empty and eerily dark and silent - in other words, not very inviting. He could still hear Snape and Filch outside, so, for just a second, he pulled his Cloak off and put it on again, properly this time, so his entire body was covered. Then, quietly as he can, the boy tiptoed around the room to explore and investigate it. He didn't even realize this door existed until he got here!

The room was dark and musty, cobwebs clinging to the ceilings and corners and in the nooks and crannies of the overturned table legs. It looked like a creepy abandoned classroom, with its chairs and tables all scattered about in such a chaotic way. Even the dustbin by the half-broken teacher's desk seemed to be knocked over, crumpled pieces of parchment spilling out from it and lay skewed. Harry shivered at the eerie atmosphere.

Perhaps the most peculiar thing stood in the middle of the room. It was a tall, flat figure that reached far up to the ceiling. Upon further inspection, the figure was a mirror. Just...a large mirror, with a gold frame with strange images engraved into it, standing on supporters that look like nothing other than...claws. Carved around the top were letters with magnificent curvy handwriting that read, erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. It looked like a different language that Harry couldn't decipher.

Harry decided to peek into the mirror before heading back to bed, but he got much, much more than just a little peek.

The second he stood in front of the mirror, he saw something baffling. There he was, standing, in the mirror. He was sure he was invisible, but he was there. And besides him were...people. About ten of them, all staring back at him. Alarmed, Harry spun around, expecting to see them behind him. There was no one. Harry turned back to the mirror again, and the people were there again, smiling at him. Two of them stood out to Harry the most - a woman with green eyes, just like Harry's, and a man with glasses.

Harry turned around again, to inspect for a second time. Still, he was the only one in the otherwise empty room. Looking back at the mirror again, Harry tried to breathe. Maybe...it showed invisible things? Maybe his parents were there in ghost form? Does it show dead people? What is it?

Harry turned back to the mirror. The figures smiled gently at him - and Harry felt comforted, warm, welcome. The woman looked very pretty, with her flowing red hair, and her smile. Her smile so soft, yet she was crying, and looking at him sadly. The man next to her put a hand on her shoulder. He was tall, then, and his black hair was messy and matted. Suddenly, a giddy, sad feeling punctured him in the stomach, and he gulped, staring at the people in the mirror. They...were they his parents?

Harry was now so close to the mirror that his nose was almost touching it. He peered into it, at the people who were possibly his parents, his breath hitching when they smiled wider at him.

"M-mom?" He whispered, stuttering. "Dad?"

A sudden noise startled him. It was Filch cursing - the non-magical kind - and it seemed like he had dropped his lantern on accident. It then dawned to Harry that it was probably best to leave. Harry adverted his gaze from the mirror, and turned around.

"I'll be back," He told the reflections - if they could even be considered that. With his head throbbing with stress of all these new discoveries, Harry slipped out the ajar door as slowly as he can without touching it, then just ran as quietly as he can from Filch and Snape, all the way back to the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

Dumbledore sighed as his quill touched the parchment, ink flowing off of it gracefully to form long, cursive writing. He was making notes - of how many times the young first-year who sat in front of him had gone out of bed at night, against the rules. Said albino was sitting in the chair in front of him, clenched fists on his lap, legs tense and rigid on the chair leg, shivering rapidly, his head hanging and his eyes avoiding anything in the direction of Dumbledore. He looked...pathetic, to say the least. This is not what Gilbert normally looked like, but Dumbledore had seen him in this state enough times to not be surprised anymore.

"Alright." The old man sighed gently, making Gilbert's head rapidly snap up to gaze, terrified, at Dumbledore. Dumbledore continued, "You will receive detention on the night after tomorrow."

Gilbert's unnatural blood red eyes flashed with a pure horror, and his shoulders tensed up more than they already have. He sat upright, skin becoming paler and paler every minute. "N-nein! Please don't!"

"Gilbert-"

The boy shook his head. "I'm not going back to that Forest! No! Never!"

"Please, Gilbert"

"It's hell over there!" The albino's eyes were beginning to water again as he peered at Dumbledore, desperately, hoping that there may be just a small sliver of a chance that the Headmaster might let him go.

"It has been decided, Gilbert. You leave me no choice. This is the fifth time this term." Dumbledore replied cooly. Gilbert's eyes were brimming with tears, and he feebly shrunk down in his seat. He looked lost and defeated.

"You will go into the Forest with Hagrid." Dumbledore muttered, though Gilbert already knew what was in store for him. "You may leave."

The boy shakily got up his tears began flowing freely, his mouth quivering. And he exited Dumbledore's office, barely being able to stand due to his unstable little legs.

After the door was softly closed, Dumbledore let out a long, frustrated sigh. He really didn't want to do this to Gilbert, but what can he do? It was a rule to all students, and the albino had broken it more than enough times.

"You're being too harsh on him, don't you think?" A man in one of the many portraits in his room let out a huff. "He's just a kid."

"Yes, but..." Dumbledore stared at the chair that Gilbert had sat on. "I feel like he's much stronger than you may think he is. He'll survive."

The man in the painting rolled his eyes and turned away, muttering to himself something about Dumbledore being an insolent fool and that the kid was terribly, terribly weak.

Dumbledore closed his eyes to comprehend what the painting just said. Maybe he was right, but...Dumbledore had this feeling, this hunch that Gilbert wasn't who he seemed. The first-year had the same mysterious aura that surrounded Arthur Kirland and his peculiar brother Scott - a kind that no matter how hard Dumbledore thought of it, he just couldn't quite understand it. They had some sort of...mental barrier around them that no human - muggle and wizard alike - would be able to penetrate. These people have suffered far, far more than anyone could have ever imagined. And Dumbledore was angry at himself for not being able to read them.

* * *

The next morning, Harry had woken up feeling especially anxious - he had to do some research, about Nicolas Flamel and maybe, possibly, dark magicians. After all this time, the boy was beginning to doubt it. After all, the whole thing was something that _Malfoy_ simply spewed out out of anger...right? Harry couldn't be quite sure - the disturbing aura was still around these people, and Harry could sense something in them - something much more sinister and dark. Even if dark magic wasn't the case, he has to be safe than sorry.

The boy unintentionally pushed his worries behind and focused on the mirror. That mirror he saw last night - he had to get back to it. He wanted it. He wanted his parents. Research can wait - Hermione was going to be back soon anyway. The mirror comes first. Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Is Flamel really important? Did he really care that Snape had stolen whatever the three-headed dog was guarding?

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked when Harry told him about his experience with the mirror at breakfast.

"Yeah, Harry! I wonder what your mom looks like." Matthias smiled, forking some bacon into his mouth.

"Maybe it only shows family?" Ron tapped his chin. "Because I totally want to see yours!"

"And I can see yours too." Harry smiled. Ron just laughed.

"You can see my family any old time, Harry. Just come round at summer."

Harry shrugged. "Fat chance. The Dursleys exist."

"Wow, sucks to be you." Matthias muttered, gulping down a spoonful of mashed potatoes. "People let me do anything at home, as long as I don't annoy Lukas or set anything on fire or chop someone's head off with an axe." The statement earned him a few laughs from the people all around the table who overheard him, but Harry didn't think he was joking.

"Anyways, I'm definitely going back to that mirror. Gilbert can come too if he wants to." Harry added, suddenly remembering what he had seen last night. Maybe this can be an opportunity for him to ask the albino about it - but the German didn't seem in the mood for a conversation at the moment. He was strangely quiet, and didn't even speak as much as a good morning to anyone at all. Harry suddenly felt the guilt stab him in the stomach again - he was probably the reason that Gilbert was going to get punished!

"Yeah, Gil! Wanna come?" Matthias shook the albino's shoulder excitedly. Said boy shook his head lightly and returned to his meal, ignoring Matthias. Hell, it didn't seem like he was eating much at all, just playing around with the peas on his plate with his fork, head resting on his hand with his dull eyes unfocused. Matthias tilted his head, and suddenly his happy demeanor was gone, replaced by a concerned expression.

"Well, I'm sure Gil can come tomorrow." Ron faked a smile to cheer Matthias up. It wasn't very effective, but the blond's lips twisted up into a very small grimace-like smile, to show that he appreciated the effort.

Matthias finally inced away from Gilbert once more, scraping his bacon on Harry's plate. "Have some breakfast, Harry." The black-haired male barely touched the food, to anxious to come face-to-face with his parents again.

Ron frowned at the Harry. "What's wrong? You look odd."

Harry merely shook his head.

That night, when it was dark and cold, Harry, Matthias, and Ron stepped out their common room, effectively scaring the Fat Lady in the portrait again. With the Cloak covering all three of them, somehow, they crept down the halls again, just like Harry did last night.

"Are we there yet?" Matthias whispered, only to be shushed by Harry.

"Yeah, my feet hurt. Let's just go back to bed, eh." Ron grumbled, wincing at every step.

"No!" Harry hissed. "We have to find it! I _know_ the room is here somewhere!"

Truthfully, Harry really had no idea where the room was, since he just found it by chance while escaping certain death. The boy was scared that he wouldn't be able to find it again, but relief flooded over him when he spotted the familiar glint of the suit of armor, standing by the door, now fully fixed, and assembled, of course. Signalling to Ron and Matthias to shut up, he crouched down lower than he already was and slipped through the suspiciously open door without touching the suit of armor - not that crouching will help in any way, but it made him feel safer than he actually is.

One by one, all three of them squeezed their tiny little bodies inside the room. Once inside, there was an excited squeak from Matthias when the looming mirror came into sight. Ron just looked impressed, and nudged Harry with an expression that congratulated him for finding it. Harry grinned, his heart pounding with the small pit of hope that maybe his parents would still be there. He was correct - all the people from last night were still standing there, waving, smiling. Harry smiled back, feeling a wave of calmness and comfort wash over him. It was like an addictive drug, and Harry couldn't help but stare at them, dazed, for as long as he can.

"I don't see anything." Ron mumbled, breaking the perfect silence. Harry, both confused and annoyed, pointed at the mirror and mouthed a silent 'look again, they're right there.' The redhead simply shook his head, and, against Harry's pretests, pulled the boy with glasses away from the mirror to get a full look for himself. Matthias watched silently from the side when Ron was finally standing alone in front of the glass. The redhead let out a surprised and amazed gasp.

"What, do you see your family?" Harry inquired, slightly impatient to have the mirror back.

"No...but I see me! Standing alone! I look older...and I'm Head Boy!" Ron beamed, but Harry scratched his head in confusion. The Weasley continued, "A-and I have the House Cup! And the Quidditch Cup! Great Merlin, I'm the Quidditch Captain!"

"What?" Harry was now very perplexed. "What does this mirror show, exactly?"

"Maybe it shows the future!" Ron smiled, closing his eyes to imagine himself in the situation. "I'll be famous! And rich!"

"How could it show the future?" Harry frowned. "My parents are dead - move, give me one more look."

"You've had the mirror all to yourself last night, let me have a chance!" Ron protested, his voice getting louder and louder. Harry growled and began to forcibly shove the boy away - Ron snarled and pushed Harry back.

"Guys, volume down - and stop fighting, you uncultured swine - I mean, you're acting like animals, stop!" Matthias hissed softly, but earned glares from Ron and Harry.

"Who are you to say, you and that git Gil have been wrecking his castle since you got here!" Harry aggressively roared, not caring about his voice or how harsh he was being.

Harry stopped abruptly when his eyes caught something. Matthias raised an eyebrow, but his eyes suddenly flashed with horror, and he picked up the Cloak that they had dropped and hurridely dropped it over the three of them. Harry didn't even have time to react when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. The eyes of Ms. Norris shone back at them, and they held their breaths. The cat blinked, and darted away.

"She's going to tell Filch, it's not safe." Matthias rumbled, and before anyone could say anything else, the Dane had dragged them out the room.

...

"I know that face."

Harry tore his eyes from his breakfast to look at Ron. "What?"

"You're going back to that mirror, aren't you?" The first-year narrowed his eyes as he scooped a spoonful of curry from his place.

"And what are you going to do about it, Ron?" Harry countered. Only after did he finish the sentence did he realize how hostile he sounded, but at this point he didn't care anymore.

"Just...I have a bad feeling about it." Ron shook his head. "And you have had too many close calls - you were almost caught that first time, weren't you?"

"Almost, but I wasn't." Harry rolled his eyes. "Why do you care anyways?"

"Harry." Matthias looked as serious as ever, and that was saying something. "It's too dangerous...plus, there is a Berwald-like aura coming out from that thing..."

"Berwald isn't even that scary anyway." Harry lied, realizing too late that the Hufflepuff could probably hear him, evident in the fact that the Swede's head turned when he uttered the words. But he shrugged it off. Berwald may look intimidating at first, but he was gentle (especially to Tino, for some reason) and was probably too cowardly to even lay a finger on Harry.

"Harry." Matthias fixed him with a very un-Matthias-like gaze. "Don't go back."

Harry scoffed. Ron and Matthias couldn't stop him. The third night he went again, and he had less trouble finding it this time. His footsteps were louder than usual, dangerously loud, but in the back of the black-haired boy's mind, he knew that he wouldn't encounter anyone on the way - and he was right. A pure white owl circled outside the window just when he found the door. He stepped in front of the mirror again, and saw his family again, and it made him feel warm inside. The first-year plopped down to sit on the ground and made himself comfortable. This time he will stare at this mirror all night, and there will be no one to stop him.

"Back again, Harry?"

...Never mind.

Harry suddenly froze. Shit. _Shit_. He tore his eyes from the mirror and turned around to face where the voice was coming from.

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on a desk by the wall, smiling at him. However, the Headmaster's expression wasn't important right now - Harry had been caught. Did Dumbledore slip in after Harry? Did Harry walk past the old man without noticing him? Harry's heart began to pound faster and faster. He decided to say the smartest thing ever said by mankind.

"I...I didn't see you there, sir."

Well, Harry had fucked up on so many levels.

"Funny how being invisible makes us all so near-sighted, eh?" Dumbledore chuckled. "I don't even need a Cloak to be invisible. Harry simply stared at the man who he had suspected to be mad since the beginning.

"So..." Dumbledore muttered, hopping off the desk to join Harry on the floor. "You, like many others, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"Is that what it's called, sir?" Harry tilted his head, glancing back at the mirror. His family was still there, and one of the people who Harry assumed was his grandfather nodded happily at him.

"Yes..." Dumbledore muttered. "But by now you must know of what it does?"

"N-no, sir..." The student answered, scratching his head.

"Look at it this way." Dumbledore tapped his chin. "The happiest person on earth could use it as a normal mirror - he would see a reflection of himself like normal, going about his every day life. Do you get it?"

"So...it shows what we want, whatever we want..." Harry trailed off when he saw the amused look on Dumbledore's face - he must have said something wrong.

"Not quite." Dumbledore murmured softly. "It shows a person's deepest and darkest desire - no more, no less. You, who has never seen your family before, could see your parents in that mirror. Ron, who is always constantly being overshadowed by his brothers, see himself as important, excellent. Matthias only caught one small glimpse of the mirror, but he had seen himself - an older version of himself - with Bondevik, Berwald, Tino, Emil, and all of his friends, including the one that he had claimed was missing, I presume."

"I see..." Harry tilted his head. "Matthias barely talks about his missing friends."

"Indeed, he likes to hide his feelings behind his happy demeanor, I'm sure you've noticed. Same with Gilbert - but that boy had had some trouble concealing it these past few weeks..." Dumbledore trailed off, and seemed to stare pass Harry. Harry breathed and nodded - he had noticed it too, definitely.

"However." the Headmaster began again, snapping out of his short trance. "The mirror shows no truth nor knowledge. People have wasted their life on it - intrigued by it, being driven mad over the thought of all of it being real, not knowing whether or not what it shows can even be possible."

"The mirror, Harry, will be moved to someplace else tomorrow. Please do not go looking for it - and if you do happen to stumble upon it again, you are prepared. Don't dwell on dreams and forget to live. Now, Harry, put on that admirable Cloak and get back to bed."

Harry nodded, but stopped when he was fully covered. "May I ask you something, Dumbledore?"

"Well, you just did." The Headmaster chuckled. "But you may ask one more question."

"What do you see in that mirror, sir?"

"Me, holding a pair of woolen socks." Dumbledore said simply. "One can never have too many socks. Such a shame people insist on giving me books on Christmas."

"Ah..." Harry tried not to stare. Perhaps it was a personal question.

* * *

 **A/N just so you know there will be blood here k bye**

Prussia was shivering - his flimsy cloak wasn't enough to shield him from the frost of the night. It was dark, obviously, since it was eleven at night. Prussia could be sleeping right now, but due to his own stupidity, he had to journey into the forest once again, to face its secrets and its horrors once more. _Stupid, stupid Prussia_. The nation thought to himself, pulling his cloak tighter around him It didn't help at all, and he was still freezing - he could even see his breath, forming a white mist that curled around him as he stumbled along the uneven road, the light from Hagrid's lantern only flickers dimly and did little to illuminate the area.. Oh, he wished he was with Gilbird right now - the awesome bird could definitely assist the awesome nation. But he had left Gilbird in his room today, safely tucked under the blankets. He did not want to risk his precious Gilbird being eaten by wolves - it had almost happened once, the last time he came here, and it will not happen again.

"We're here." Hagrid huffed, stopping abruptly. "You know the rules - send flares from yer want when yer in danger."

"Y-yes." Prussia stuttered, his teeth chattering. He mentally hit himself for sounding lame. He was supposed to be cool and awesome, damn it!

"Now, what I want you to find this time..." Hagrid lifted his lantern up just a bit and pushed the bushes down with his enormous hands, just enough so Prussia could see over the leaves - being short does not have advantages at all. To his surprise, there was shiny silvery liquid, in a pool on the ground. It smelled horrible.

"Unicorn blood." Hagrid explained. Prussia shuddered - he had seen blood of humans, but definitely not blood of supernatural creatures. To think that whatever creature that had killed the unicorn was still lurking out there...

"This is the first time anything like this had happened, Hagrid murmured, stroking his large, bushy beard. "And judging by all the smears, it seems that the unicorn had been struggling around for a while..."

"And...I'm supposed to fine whatever killed it?" Prussia furrowed his eyebrows, imagining himself being ripped to shreds by some monster.

"No, no. Find the unicorn. If it's not dead yet, put it out of its misery - it's unsavable at this point." Hagrid shook his head. "And we'll need its body to find out what happened to it...but I assume you wouldn't care if whatever killed it was running around the school." Hagrid gave Prussia the hairy eyeball - a disapproving look that the albino had grown so used to, for no one trusted him. Prussia just sighed and returned his gaze to the pool of unicorn blood. Strangely, after a while, it didn't disturb him at all - he was so used to death and gore that blood was nothing to him.

"Right. Just go on out this way-" Hagrid pointed a meaty finger into a direction deep in the forest, "-and I'll be goin' this way." Hagrid pointed in the opposite direction. Prussia gulped. He will be going pretty far into the maze that was the Forest - and he would be alone, vulnerable to-

The nation shook his head. He was brave! He was strong! He knew he was lying to himself, but just this once - he will venture in there by himself and get out successfully. Giving Hagrid a forced confident look, he nodded and marched in, pulling his cloak around himself so tightly that he thought it would rip at any moment.

Stumbling over roots and pushing away leaves and branches, the albino decided to pick up a stick to help him on the journey. It proved quite useful, for he was able to knock out all the annoying little bushes that were flung in his way - without getting cuts on his arm. First off, he stepped into the clearing with the pool of blood to investigate. God, it smelled dreadful! Prussia couldn't help but cough at the stench - but he looked around anyway, in hopes of at least one clue of where the unicorn could be, so he could find it quickly and get back to bed already.

Lucky for Prussia, there was a trail of blood - evidence that the unicorn was indeed running around when it was injured. The nation roamed around the area, seeing where each trail led, but to no avail. There was simply too many of them, and each meddled into the other so it was quite impossible to tell where the albino was supposed to go. He found himself wandering aimlessly in the area, examining each and every drop of the sticky silver liquid.

After a while, Prussia felt hopeless - he wasn't getting anywhere! He desperately want to be back in the Gryffindor Tower, with Denmark and Gilbird. Or better yet, at home, eating pancakes with West and Italy. God, he missed both of them - and he swore to himself that he will. He came here to find them, after all...and he desperately hoped that he will. But for now, what choice did he have but to pay for his mistakes, out here, in the dangerous woods where he was most likely to suffer an unspeakable death?

Groaning in frustration, the nation headed yet deeper into the forest, the kindled flame of his confidence now dwindling into a mere flicker. He closed his eyes to take a sniff of the air - the smell of unicorn blood was very faint, but it was there if he concentrated hard enough. He followed the scent, occasionally tripping over sticks and stones and fallen branches. The forest was eerily silent - not something once would expect from what was apparently the home of the ecosystem, with plants and animals and just generally noisy organisms. But if there was one good thing this did was that it did help him be more aware of the surroundings - he would jump at every little twitch, thus making him quite prone to any changes in the environment, so he could sense danger more easily.

A sudden sound made Prussia stop. The leaves in a nearby tree were rustling - but there was no wind., not even slight breeze. The Prussian narrowed his eyes, not daring to take a step anywhere in fear of whatever creature that was in there suddenly pouncing out at him like a predator with its prey. There was more rustling, and a hint of scraping and scratching against the the branches, and the nation held his breath.

Something was flung out of the clumps on leaves, making the albino yelp in surprise and hop backwards. Something that was originally white and black, but was now covered from head to toe with red, sticky liquid.

It was a bird - a puffin to be exact - drenched in its own blood.

Prussia's breathing grew short, shallow, and uneven, and he could feel his heart pounding and rattling in his chest, as if it were about to burst out in any moment. He stared, horror-stricken, at the mess that was his Iceland's only companion, his feet frozen on the ground and he didn't dare to move. Trembling in fear, the fallen nation placed a shivering hand on his chest to calm himself down, but it was no use. Mr. Puffin wasn't moving. Putting a hand over his mouth, the nation tried his hardest not to throw up at the smell.

Petrified and still panting, the albino swiveled his head around to the branch again. This time, a pair of glowing beady eyes were fixed at him, staring straight into his soul and beyond. Prussia's heart stopped when the eyes blinked, and the figure that held them emerged from the shadows. Familiar gleaming white feathers appeared in the nation's vision - and he gasped. Iceland's owl tilted its head and eyed him curiously, almost innocently, but the splotches of scarlet on its pure white feathers and sharp talons said otherwise.

Prussia was too shocked to scream or even move; he just stood there, feet rooted to the ground, stupidly gawking at the creature that had kill his best friend's friend - and may potentially kill him too. Nor and Ice were right to be suspicious of Snowy. Prussia, caught off guard, simply gulped, feeling a large lump forming in his throat. While he was lost in thought, the snowy owl screeched and took the opportunity to lunge for him. Before the fallen nation could even think, he felt the pain of a thousand sharp needles being embedded into his neck.

And for the first time in a while, the Prussia screamed. It was a long, bloodcurdling one - and he screamed until his throat felt raw and his voice began to crack. The sharp pain flared from his neck, traveling to his shoulders and to the rest of his body. His heart, once again, was more than unsteady; it dangerously close to bursting from the energy at any moment. He screamed again when the talons dug into his neck for a second time, his tears finally breaking free from his eyes, and he was demolished; fell to the ground on his belly with a thud, his arms flailing helplessly, gripping and grabbing at the roots and grass in a desperate attempt to escape.

Snowy was still on him, squawking and wailing, repeatedly stabbing and tearing at his flesh. Warm liquid gushed out from the wound in Prussia's neck, and he howled in pain, clenching his teeth and curling his hands into a fist. It was too much. Prussia's ears were ringing and buzzing, and he suddenly felt lightheaded as dizziness swallowed him. He howled in pain again, and he violently spun around, scrambling about the ground, his hands reaching out and grabbing at nothing.

Every grey cloud has a silver lining - Prussia had grappled onto the soft, blood-covered bird. It shrieked and frantically squirmed around, struggling to get out of Prussia's iron grasp. Despite everything, Prussia smiled - a mad, bloodthirsty sort of grimace. His other hand reached out and gripped the bird, no matter how much it hunted to move. He let out one last demented scream, and snapped the bird's neck in half.

There was a crack. There was no blood - but the bird had stopped struggling and now hung limp from his hands. The nation's head throbbed like crazy, but his heart was strangely, perhaps insanely, calm. He dropped the corpse from his hands and scrambled away, from the blood, from everything in a hasty attempt to pull himself together. Alas. The lack of blood had finally taken a toll on him, and he slumped onto the ground, his head spinning. It was horrible. _He_ was horrible. He had just killed something with his bare hands; In the past he had used swords, but _this_...this was something else. But what choice did he have?

There were sudden rustling in the bushes. "Well, I knew the bird won't be able to do much other than spying. Good riddance, I didn't like her anyway." It was Professor Quirrel's voice, coming closer and closer. At this point Prussia was too exhausted to care. Someone stepped out from the shelter of the leaves and branches, briskly walking over to the nation, looming over, casting a shadow over him. Prussia closed his eyes.

The last thing the fallen nation heard was the Professor's voice, whispering into his ear.

"Gotcha."


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning: violence. And a bit of blood. k bye**

 **A/N:Merry Christmas, peeps! :D I hope ya'll have a great day celebrating with your friends and family!  
**

 **Oh wowee look another crappy chapter. I guess this is a sort of Christmas present for my readers? But like, it's one of those presents that you don't like but have to accept anyway to look polite in front of your grandparents X'D  
**

 **Also I am slightly disappointed that no-one got the Durarara reference last chapter**

 **In all seriousness, thank you all for all the support! :D It's just the proper motivation I need to continue writing this, even though as time passes I keep seeing all the reasons why it sucks XD I appreciate all of your favourites and follows and reviews, so again, thank you all soooo much!  
**

* * *

"E-eh?" Finland blinked, unsure of how to act. Norway had called them into his room, and they sat there waiting for him when he burst into the room and said it so suddenly that it took him quite some time to process the information. His mind whirled, and feebly, the nation squeezed his husband's hand. His breathing became more and more uneven and his heart began pounding when the weight of the situation finally began dawning on him. "N-nor, what do y-you mean?"

"It means what it means." Norway, as emotionless as ever, sighed and closed his dull blue eyes. Yet, the unsteadiness in the blond's voice stated that he felt more than just dread. "It...Prussia...he was last seen with Hagrid, going out to the Forbidden Forest for detention, then...then..." The nation gulped, as if not daring to continue. His eyes grimly darted to the floor, the slight frown on his lips becoming more and more noticeable. "And when Hagrid finally found the area where Prussia had last been...there was..." He closed his eyes for a brief moment and breathed deeply. "There was blood."

"...B-blood?" Iceland stammered. It wasn't like Iceland to lose his cool - but at this point, it was the least of everyone's problems. He swallowed, and his gaze fell to the ground, his eyebrows furrowed, and his normal troubled expression intensified. Finland clung on to Sweden even tighter and began whimpering, while said Swede held him affectionately, his eyes fluttering close as his mouth twisted into a frown.

"That means none of us are safe." Sweden murmured, narrowing his eyes, his glasses glinting. The rest of the Nordics in the room nodded in agreement.

"This...was shocking when I first heard it." Norway sighed twirling his fingers around his wand. "And I don't think Denmark should know about this."

"E-eh?" Finland tilted his head, concern lacing his voice. "W-why not?"

"He'd freak out." Norway answered simply. "Besides us, Prussia and America were the only friends he had. Losing America was shocking enough, and now losing Prussia would wreck him."

"I remember how he acted when Prussia was being hospitalized." Sweden spoke up for the first time that day, his voice quiet yet deadly. "He wouldn't be so happy to hear that now Prussia is missing too."

"I agree." Iceland nodded, the fear still evident in the way he held himself as he stood. "Let's not tell Denmark until absolutely necessary."

"We shall focus on bringing him and the G8 back." Norway stated. "I don't know if his disappearance has anything to do with the G8's, so let's not come to any conclusions before we get more evidence."

"W-well, The G8 just suddenly...faded into thin air, b-but with Prussia...he left...the blood. I-i don't know." Finland stuttered.

"Personally, I don't think Prussia and the G8 left the same way - where they are right now may be a different story." Iceland narrowed his eyes. "But we have to focus on finding them. Nor, about that book..."

"I've decided that we will take no further action with anything written in this until I've confirmed we can with Scott and Romania." Norway replied coldly, his eyes shifting to the pages that were left open on his desk. "I need to write a letter to them...and I don't trust Iceland's owl to deliver it."

"Doesn't matter, I haven't seen her since yesterday." Iceland shook his head. "And I hope I never will again, she's creepy now that I think about it."

"R-right." Finland stammered. "Should I s-search for evidence with Sweden then?"

"Yes, please investigate. And keep an eye on Denmark, while you're at it. Don't let him find out about it." Norway briskly stepped to his desk and picked up the book, eyeing it before placing it in his bag. "Ice and I will deal with this when we receive a reply from Scotland and Romania."

"What if he asks about Prussia?" Sweden piped up.

"Tell him that Prussia is with me, practicing spells are something, and Denmark couldn't come along because he had to stalk- er, look after Harry Potter." Norway murmured.

"Then it's settled." Iceland nodded. "We'll have to find Prussia and the G8 - and fast." And with that note, Everyone got out to leave, with Iceland holding the door for them as they exited Norway's room.

"By the way, Iceland." Norway called after everyone else had left . Iceland stopped in his tracks and tilted his head, slightly annoyed.

"What?"

"Hagrid found that puffin of yours." The Norwegian whispered so softly that it was almost inaudible. "He had presumably been attacked by whatever attacked Prussia and barely escaped death, and he's in the hospital wing right now, and-"

Something clicked inside Iceland's brain. The strange, uneasy feeling inside Iceland's stomach that had stayed with him since the start of the year was gone, replaced by a cold, harsh realization. That's it. Mr. Puffin. Iceland had completely forgotten about the bird. He knew he was forgetting something, but it never occurred to him that it had been this important. The nation felt like he had been hit by a train. How could he be so stupid?

"Er, brother-"

Before Norway could continue, the boy had already rushed out of the room.

* * *

Denmark woke up bright and happy. Christmas was finally coming to a close, which was a bummer, but the term was starting tomorrow, and all the students were going to be back! He would see Hermione again, and he'd get to fool around the Gryffindor common room with more people. He opened his window to breathe in the crisp new air of January, and saw a bird chirping outside to start a beautiful brand new day. Denmark enthusiastically pointed to it and said, "Shut the fuck up, you're going to wake up Gilbird."

He looked over to Prussia's bed. Besides the little ball of fluff and feathers that was Gilbird sleeping on it, it was empty, and the blankets were messy and ruffled, as if the albino had gone out of bed in a hurry. Oh well, Denmark shrugged. Norway had said to him a couple of days ago that the albino was practicing magic with him or something...he couldn't have woken up this early, so he was probably hungry and woke up early to get breakfast first! Speaking of which...he wondered if Prussia liked the Christmas present that he gave to him. Denmark didn't see any bottles anywhere, so the Prussia had probably finished the beer? And the fallen nation didn't even mention it, let alone thank him...Anywho, whether the albino thanked him or not, Denmark was still happy that at least he drank it. Nothing is better than the taste of Danish beer!

The Dane excitedly ran down the stairs to the common room. He passed Harry, who jumped and yelped in surprise and dropped the bag that the boy had sloppily slung over his shoulder. Denmark skidded to a stop in front of him and smiled sheepishly, yapping out apologies. Harry just blinked and his mouth slowly twisted upwards.

"Good morning, Matthias." The boy cut the Dane off before he could apologize any more.

"Oh, good morning." Denmark beamed, before bending down to pick up the contents of the bag that had slipped from Harry'as grasp. The raven muttered a thank you, and the two boys continued to trot down the stairs - albeit slower this time. They spotted a large fluffball of bushy brown hair peak out of the corner, and Denmark grinned from ear to ear. "Hermione!"

The fluffball turned, and indeed, the familiar face of his friend was there, smiling back at him. "Hello, Matthias. Good morning, Harry."

"Hermione!" It was Ron, who poked his sleepy head out the door from his room and smiled, tired. "When did you come here?"

"Just now." Hermione replied as Matthias, unable to suppress his laughter, jumped off a few steps at the end of the staircase and pulled her into a casual hug. Ron shot the blond a disapproving glance, but otherwise said nothing.

"Great! Let's go have some breakfast now! I'm hungry!" And with his arms still slung over Hermione's shoulder, Denmark led the Gryffindors out the Portrait of the Fat Lady and to the Great Hall, telling jokes and making puns the whole way, while Harry and Ron filled Hermione with details of what had been happening lately.

"See? I told you that mirror was dangerous!" Ron rolled his eyes when Harry told him about the dreams he had been having after being separated from the mirror.

"You never said that it was dangerous, you just said that it was 'bad news' and 'fishy'." Harry retorted.

"Doesn't it mean the same fucking thing?" Ron countered while simultaneously swatting Matthias on the back of the head when he attempted to make a pun about sheep. The blond bent over from the shock before crossing his arms and pouting, suddenly becoming quiet. Everyone ignored him.

"Forget that, Harry, how could you get up and walk around school in the middle of the night like that? Shame on you!" Hermione barked, putting her hands on her hips. "You could have died! Or worse, expelled!"

"Get your priorities straight, woman." Ron grumbled, being quite tired of Hermione's shite. Hermione looked offended, her eyes widening and flashing with anger.

"Excuse me, Ron!" Hermione curled her hand into a fist and banged the wall next to her. "That's sexist."

"Good God, Hermione, I didn't mean it like that-"

"We're here, peeps!" Denmark screamed at them, intentionally cutting their conversation short. Hermione huffed and avoided further eye contact with Ron, while said boy gave her a look that said, 'we'll continue this later'. Denmark plastered on a smile and began ushering his three friends into the Great Hall, getting them to their seats and even pushing their chair for them once they sat down. Hermione was too enraged to say anything to the blond, Ron ignored him, and Harry muttered a barely audible half-hearted thank you. Denmark shrugged and went to his own seat, noticing the absence of Prussia. He tilted his head, worry flashing through his heart before he shook his head, chuckling to himself for even thinking about it. Of course the albino was fine! He had probably finished breakfast already, and is wandering around school or something. He always said he liked being alone anyway.

"By the way." Hermione piped up. "Did you all find who Nicolas Flamel is yet?"

Nicolas Flamel? Denmark tilted his head. He had never really paid attention to it, but now that he thought about it, that name sounded familiar...

"Er...no." Harry scratched the back of his head.

"Ugh, would you boys ever do something productive for once?" Hermione complained, earning herself a glare from Ron.

"Excuse me, what was that about being sexist again?"

"Ron, you-"

"Guys, please stop." Denmark, desperate to make them stop arguing, exclaimed and stood up. Hermione and Ron once again frowned and got back to their meal, while Harry sighed. Denmark's smile dropped from his face just a little more, but he kept quiet.

They sat and ate silently, which was very unusual. The silence was broken when Denmark caught sight of a certain sniper and his husband, making their way to the Hufflepuff table. Denmark grinned and waved at them, but his happiness quickly faded when the two only returned forced smiles. They looked quite anxious and disturbed, traumatized, even. Finland didn't even say good morning, and Sweden gave him a curt nod before turning away. Denmark tilted his head. What is up with everyone today? Why are they so upset? A sudden idea crossed Denmark's mind, and slowly his cheerful expression once again returning. If his friends aren't happy, then he'll make them!

"Come on, guys! Let's go outside on our last day of the holiday!" Denmark exclaimed excitedly, only to be turned down by Hermione shaking her head.

"We have to go to the library and do some research."

"Come on, Hermione!" Ron frowned. "It's the last day, let us relax for once."

"You've been relaxing all Christmas break, Ron! Can't you, pfft, I don't know, at least try to make yourself useful?"

"Yooou know what, how about I go outside with Ron and you and Harry do research?" Denmark butted in before his friends could start strangling each other.

"Sounds good to me." Ron turned away hotly, while Hermione did the same. Harry sighed. At this point, he just wanted to give up on finding Nicolas Flamel.

...

The term officially began the next day, and the Gryffindors had gone back to skimming though books between classes. Homework was abundant, and it was increasingly giving Harry a headache, especially now that Quidditch practices had started again. Hermione and Ron had more or less calmed down, and the Weasley Twins, whose wands were still confiscated by the devil Snape, had refrained from exploding things. Harry caught Matthias glancing worriedly at Tino and Berwald ever once in a while, and Emil and Gilbert were nowhere to be seen, so the raven couldn't really blame the blond for being a bit concerned about his friends.

However, what Harry considered the most horrible moment in his long horrible life happened on a particularly wet and muddy day. The Weasley Twins were messing about as usual, pretending to fall off their brooms when Wood screamed at them to stop the horseplay, all the while blurting out that Snape was refereeing. At this, the pitch went quiet.

"It's true." Wood nodded solemnly. "Which is why we'd have to play nice and carefully so he won't have a reason to call us out!"

That in itself was all fine to Harry, but _Snape_ , of all people? Harry shuddered. He was _not_ going to let _Snape_ near him while playing _Quidditch._ It sounded like a recipe for disaster.

"Don't play." Hermione immediately hissed when he told her the bad news.

"Pretend to be ill." Ron butted in.

"Pretend to break your leg." Hermione countered, a competitive glare in her eyes.

" _Really_ break your leg, and I can totally help with that-" Matthias smiled innocently, but Harry knew that he wasn't joking.

"Look, I'm not going to-"

Just then, there was the sound of the portrait door swinging open, and Neville toppled in, hitting the floor quite hard and Harry couldn't help but wince. He tried to get up, all dazed, but his legs were bound tightly together - the Leg-Locker curse was quite obvious. It was have been a pain for him to get all the way to the common room like that - he had probably hopped all the way and, knowing him, he had no doubt fallen a lot too.

"It was Malfoy." Neville sniffed before anyone could even ask him anything. "He said he had been looking for someone to practice the curse on."

"Report him." Hermione instantly said before muttering a counter-curse for the poor boy. Neville shook his head.

"I don't want any more trouble..."

"You have to stand up to him, Neville!" Matthias yelled, grabbing the boy's shoulder and shaking him. Harry put a hand on the blond's shoulder and gave him a look that said 'stop'.

Ron stood up. "You're worth twelve of Malfoy.

"Malfoy is just an asshole and he deserves to be decapitated with scissors and burn in hell for all eternity and Neville shall shower in his blood." Hermione stated plainly. Harry suddenly felt nauseous.

"Yes, er, what she said, Neville!" Ron was having a hard time trying to find the right words to continue the conversation after Hermione's comment. "That Malfoy is so used to stepping all over people like he's an almighty being, so you need to make that hard for him!"

"Speaking of which, the whole 'almighty being' thing reminds me of Gilbert..." Matthias tapped his chin. "Now that I think of it, Gilbert is like Malfoy but less bitchy about everything."

"Speaking of Gilbert, where is he anyway?"Ron inquired. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"With Lukas, er, practicing his magic, apparently. I haven't seen him in a while either...I kinda miss him, actually."

"Want a chocolate frog, Neville?" Harry decided to ignore the three other Gryffindors and patted the slightly traumatized Neville on the shoulder. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the candy - the last one from the box that Hermione had given him for Chirstmas. He handed it to Neville, who weakly accepted it. "You're in Gryffindor for a reason, Neville."

"T-thanks, Harry. Oh, a-and you can h-have the card, I heard that y-you were collecting them..." He gave the card to Harry before wordlessly trudging up the stairs.

"Oh, hey, it's Dumbledore." Harry's heart jumped when Matthias's voice floated into his ear - and he realized that the blond was behind him and looking over his shoulder. "I haven't gotten him yet."

"Well, he's the first one I got, and..." Harry trailed off after reading the card.

"What?" Matthias tilted his head while Harry slowly turned to look at him, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

"Read this, Matthias."

The blond looked confused, but took the card and squinted. "Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work on alchemy with his partner..." Matthias stopped. "Nicolas Flamel. NICOLAS FLAMEL!"

 _Now_ Denmark knew why the name sounded so familiar - the name was written right on the cover of the book that Iceland had found in the library, the one that Nor had right now. The leather-bound one that contained all the spells that worked on nations. Nicolas Flamel! He would have to ask Norway about this - though if the guy knew something, he would have probably told the rest of the Nordics by now...

"W-what?" Ron whipped his head around to face them, a look of utter disbelief written on his face.

"W-we found him!" Harry hopped in his seat excitedly, though he noticed that Matthias didn't seem particularly surprised - or at least not as much as he is.

"Stay here, don't move" Hermione suddenly commanded, and with that, she raced up into the girl's dormitory as hysterically as Matthias on caffeine. The three boys exchanged looks. It wasn't long until she rushed back out, an enormous book in her arms. She set it on the table with a low thump, and immediately began flipping through the pages frantically while shushing anyone who dares question her on her epic quest to find the right page.

"Aha!" The bushy-haired finally exclaimed, holding the book up before setting it back on the table again. "Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

"A what now?" Matthias tilted his head.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, don't any of you read?" Hermione huffed, and passed the book to the boys. Ron muttered something incoherent under his breath and focused his eyes on the page. There was a moment of silence as Harry scanned the page intently while Matthias simply skimmed through it, half-interested.

"I would totally want to turn metal into gold though." The blond piped up once he was done. Ron gave him the 'are-you-kidding-me' face and Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"Forget that, it makes you immortal. _Immortal_ , Matthias, don't you want that?" Ron repeatedly pointed to the paragraph that they read to emphasize his point. A sudden hint of dismay flashed through the electric blue eyes of the Dane, and his happy expression visibly faltered, for a split second, though it was gone just as soon as it came. He smiled - almost bitterly - and let out a soft chuckle.

"Ah...yes, of course." The tone of his voice was a lot more hushed than usual. "Though...wouldn't it be...sad...to see the people around you come and go, but you yourself could never die you all you could do is watch them helplessly?" His eyes began to shift elsewhere and he closed them as if deep in thought, perhaps reliving a painful memory of sorts. Harry couldn't help but feel slightly disturbed by how sensitive the Dane was to such topics.

"Huh, I guess I've never really thought of that..." Hermione began, but trailed off when she realized that Matthias wasn't responding. "Matthias, are you OK?"

His eyes snapped open and he stared at her, and for a split second fear flashed before his eyes, but when he smiled it was all gone, and Harry could no longer read his eyes. "I'm fine, carry on."

"Er, right." Harry awkwardly cleared his throat, and as if none of that ever happened, he continued, "A stone that can turn metal to gold and make an elixir that makes you live forever - of course Snape would want it! And...and the dog was guarding it!"

"And that's why they wanted the stone moved out of Gringotts, there was someone after it, and since Dumbledore and Flamel are friends, Flamel asked Dumbledore to-" Hermione was finally piecing it all together, and she cut herself off, knowing that the boys already understood the rest.

"And no wonder why he wasn't in any books about great modern wizards - he isn't really modern if he is..." Ron checked the book again. "...Six hundred and seventy-five, is he?"

"Well, in immortal years, it's not that long." Matthias shrugged, earning himself a few confused looks. His eyes darted to the floor and he quickly added, "I mean, almost 700 isn't that long compared to, ya know, forever, I mean, it is long for us, but it's not really..." He paused. "Please excuse me, I'm going to bed."

"Wait, Matthias-"

But he had already scurried up the stairs, almost frantically. Harry blinked. The door of the room was quickly shut, and the Dane was gone.

"There's something up with him." Hermione lowered her voice until it was barely a whisper. "You all feel it too, don't you?"

"I know..." Ron paused. "He practices dark magic, doesn't he?"

"I almost forgot about that." Harry shook his head. "We need to be a bit more careful around him, and around all of his friends as well." And Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement.

Up in the bedroom, where Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were snoring, Denmark had banged his head on the wall multiple times to help calm down his fast beating heart. Shit. They knew something. The faces they gave him, they were suspicious of him. Denmark slumped into his mattress, massaging his temples. Stupid, stupid Denmark. He let his guard down for one minute, and now Harry and Ron and Hermione had known far more about him than they were supposed to.

"Shit." He muttered out loud, catching the attention of Gilbird, who, for some reason, hadn't tagged along with Prussia for his supposed magic training with Norway. The small ball of fluffy feathers had probably sensed his dread, and he hopped on the blond's shoulder, nuzzling his cheek. Denmark chuckled softly.

"You're adorable, Gilbird." Denmark allowed himself to relax and pet the bird for a few seconds, before his mind turned to the pressing matters at hand. Everything was swirling in his mind - the G8, Norway, the book, Flamel, the spells...and yet his current objective was clear - Nor was taking charge of finding the G8, and his instructions were clear - keep Harry safe. He had regain the trust of his friends, no matter what it takes.

...

One day the students found out that Professor Flitwick was out on a short research trip somewhere that wasn't supposed to take more than a few hours but isn't able to return due to some issues with his broom, so Professor Bondevik had filled in his place. Despite the dullness of the tone in his voice, Bondevik actually made the lesson fun. Bondevik had demonstrated the Summoning Charm by pulling Matthias in towards him from across the room. However, something when wrong and Matthias flopped on his head, and the next thing Harry knew, he was witnessing a very pissed Bondevik being kicked on the face by a certain hyperactive Dane, his hair being pulled by a pair of tiny, grabby hands. The entire class laughed, and even Hermione looked up from her book and let out a small snicker. When the Norwegian finally pulled the Dane from his face, for a split second Harry saw the tinge of amusement in his eyes before he flung Matthias way back to his seat; Miraculously, the blond landed perfectly in his chair, unhurt. Bondevik received a round of applause.

Harry stopped laughing when he realized that Bondevik seemed to be distracted with something - and it seems that everyone had noticed it too, because the noises slowly began to die down - but not quite completely - as everyone stared at the professor.

Norway wasn't sure whether or not he should be enjoying this attention, but the sound of footsteps stopping right outside his door made him stop short. He hadn't been paying attention before they stopped, so he had no idea who it was. He eyed the turning doorknob, squinting. From the small crack of the slightly opened door, the nation caught sight of a very familiar red trench coat...

Suddenly, the large wooden door in the corner of the room swung open with such a dangerous amount of speed and force that it slammed into the wall next to it, creating a loud, deafening bang that silenced everyone in the room. Harry peered at the door as an unfamiliar head with strawberry blond hair poked in, blinking. His unnaturally red eyes and pale skin reminded Harry of a certain Prussian that he hadn't seen since...forever. The unknown man stepped forward revealing red muggle clothes with a matching hat, and everyone stared curiously as he grinned widely, showing sharp...fangs that glistened in the light. He was looking straight at Lukas when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Nor! Buddy!" The man yelled excitedly to the Professor, who looked slightly bewildered. "Long time no see! I got your letter, I came here to visit you!" The man ran up to Bondevik with his arms outstretched, ready for a hug, but before he could even tough the professor he was promptly rejected by a rather brutal punch in the face. The man spun and stumbled backwards, hiding his face in his hands, a small yet noticeable trickle of blood traveled down his chin. Harry winced, and all the Gryffindors in the class let out a gasp while the Slytherins remained quiet.

"I'm in the middle of class." Bondevik simply stated, like a robot, before marching up to the strange man and roughly grabbing him by the ear and literally dragging him to the door.

"Ow! Nor! That hurts!" The man cried, his red muggle trench clothes flapping as he flung his arms around widely. "Noooorrr!"

Bondevik stopped right outside the door, where Harry caught a glimpes of another person - a man with red hair and blue muggle clothes, smoking a cigarette - he looked annoyed and uninterested by the fact that the person Harry assumed was his friend was bleeding. "I'll be back, don't break anything, don't stab anyone with your ballpoint pens." Bondevik pointed to the stunned students sitting in the classroom before pulling the strawberry blond man out the door. Harry's eyes briefly met with the narrowed green ones of the red-haired man before he shut the door close. There was an awkward silence for a moment before chatter broke out between the students - all of them were intrigued by the sudden interruption of this man who was almost murdered by the assistant professor.

"I wonder why he calls him Nor?" Ron wondered out loud, tapping his hand on the desk.

"Oh, I remember Matthias mentioning that they call their friends by the country they came from as nicknames..." Hermione, who was only half-paying attention, murmured under her breath, twiddling with the quill in her hands. "So Nor is probably short for Norway." After that statement, Ron raised an eyebrow and Harry shrugged.

"Heh. So Nor is like, the nickname of a nickname." Harry chuckled to himself, and jumped when he heard Ron snicker.

When outside the room, Norway turned to look at Scotland square in the eye. "You've interrupted my class."

"I tried to stop him." Scotland nonchalantly shrugged. "And I came to ask about...that thing you asked me about in the letter you sent me yesterday."

"Ugh, look, I need to finish this class - this is the last one of the day that I am aware of, so please, wait a bit. It's almost time for it to end anyway." Norway sighed.

"Well, it better be quick, time is running, and I've only barely been able to fit this visit in my schedule today, now that I have to do all the work that my brother did." Scotland sighed. Noway nodded, and with that, he whirled around and trudged back into the classroom.

"Sorry about that, class." Bondevik cleared his throat once he came inside again. "We may continue."

Harry found himself a little distracted for the rest of the lesson. There was something about that man that he caught sight of before the door was closed - the one with red hair and blue muggle clothing which design looked like the flag of Scotland. There was something unsettling about him, and Harry could feel it. He carried the same strange aura that Bondevik and Matthias and Gilbert and their Hufflepuffs friends had, but the redheaded man seemed...different. Matthias and his friends seemed off, like somehow they didn't belong here, but the man...Harry felt strangely...connected to him, like there was an invisible thread that pulled the raven towards him.

"Harry."

The boy snapped his head up to see Bondevik looking straight at him. "Y-yes?"

"Answer my question." The professor sighed. "And please pay attention in class."

"Y-yes sir." Hary felt those strange dull eyes bore into him. Bondevik's eyes were just another thing that was unusual about him. It was as if the dullnues hid something, something that no-one should be seeing but Harry found himself desperately searching for what was underneath the wall that the professor had built around himself.

"Harry, please stop staring at me." Harry blinked, realizing that he had yet again floated off in his own thoughts. He forced himself to push these thoughts out of his head and tried his hardest to concentrate on the rest of the lesson.

Classes were finally over, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting. Outside in the halls, Romania was having a jolly good time trying to get Norway to not tear his ear off. The vampire yelped in pain with every few steps that the Norwegian took, and all he could do was walk along if he didn't want to get hurt more than he already has. It didn't help that his nose was still bleeding, but at this point this was the least of his worries, and he had to focus on the searing pain on the lobe of his right ear.

"N-nor! Where are you taking me-" Romania's eyes traveled to Scotland, who was trotting behind him just a few steps away. "-us?"

"Shut up." Norway growled, yanking Romania forwards more fiercely than he already was, and Romania screamed - but everyone was in class, so no-one was there to witness his cruel torture. And ever so quietly, he whispered, "somewhere that allows us to talk without being heard." He paused, and in his usual emotionless voice, "Dumbass."

Romania sniffed. "Can you at least let go of me?" The fingers slowly loosened its grasp on the poor vampire's ear, and he promptly pulled back to walk beside Scotland before the Nordic country could change his mind. Romania frowned and rubbed his sore ear.

"Alright. This is my room." Norway swiftly stepped to the door, his overly long cloak swooshing and dragging on the floor behind him. After muttering a spell under his breath, there was a soft click from the door. Opening the large wooden structure, Norway motioned for them to get inside, and Scotland did, with Romania close behind. Norway then shut the door and locked it back instantly.

"Wow." Romania muttered as he plopped down on Norway's bed, adverting his gaze around the room to quickly study it. "The mattress is squeaky, but definitely bouncy. Moldova would love this..."

"Romania, stay away from my bed, I don't want blood on it." Norway murmured coldly. Romania sniffed again and reluctantly got up, spotting a box of tissues on the desk in the corner. Also on the desk were Norway's computer and some chargers and cables. No doubt these were sneaked in.

"Now that we're going to start a meeting, you might as well turn off your phone." Scotland advised, pulling out his smartphone as Norway pulled out the cross from his hair and pressed a button to turn it off. Romania himself didn't have his phone on him so he took this moment to amuse himself by looking at how unkempt Norway's hair had become without his cross.

"Now to business." Scotland sat down on one of the chairs in Norway's room, and motioned for said nation to sit down too - but when Romania tried to take a seat, the redhead gestured for the vampire to stand. The blond huffed and leaned on the door with his arms crossed.

"Right." Norway leafed through some parchment in his bag before pulling out a small leather-bound book - though the leather cover seemed to be too big for it. He handed the book to Scotland, who took it with a raised eyebrow.

"A lot of pages are missing." Norway explained as Scotland examined the front cover. "All of the introduction seemed to be intact, but most of the pages with actual spells are missing, chard and burnt."

" _Nations_. A straightforward title." Scotland observed, but when his eyes traveled to the bottom of the cover, they widened. "A study by... _Nicolas Flamel_?"

"I don't know who that is. I haven't caught up with studying about English wizards." Norway shook his head. "But judging by the introduction, he knows a lot of things about us."

"But of course!" Scotland's cigar dropped out of his mouth as he bent over and held the book closer to his face, reading the words on the cover over and over again as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Flamel - he made the Philosopher's Stone - an object powerful enough that it can grant a person immortality!"

"Is that so?" Norway hummed, leaning in, a slightly interested look painted on his otherwise stoic expression.

"Yes! And he probably started realizing that us nations were also immortal even without drinking the Elixir, and had studied about us and wrote all his studies into this!" Scotland turned it around in his hand and briefly flipped through the book without reading it. "Y-yes, it looks like a journal of some sort!"

"Wow. Romania whistled, not knowing what Scotland was talking about.

"Ah." Norway suddenly perked up, seemingly been able to piece all the puzzle pieces together. "Perhaps...perhaps England had burnt it, or tried to, to keep other normal people from knowing of it. Somehow a few pages had survived."

"Because even acknowledging our existence is dangerous!" Scotland began to look anxious. "A-and anyone else could have read it before you did."

"There was a very thick layer of dust on it and I believe that no-one had touched it for a while." Norway murmured. "And the last person who had touched it was either Flamel himself, or someone who is currently dead."

"Why didn't I know of this?" Scotland growled to himself, seemingly ignoring everything that Norway had previously said. "England, that damn brat...he never told me..."

"Why don't you open it?" Romania called at the two from across the small room, curious about what lied within the pages.

Scotland took a breath. "Fine."

...

The Quidditch match was coming up, and ever since Harry had decided to join, (the idea of breaking his foot so he had an excuse to not play was much too horrifying) he and the team had been training as hard as ever. No-one knew if they would win or not - winning would be wonderful, of course, but can they do so with Snape as referee? This time they were going up against the Hufflepuffs, and even though Hufflepuffs aren't Slytherins, Snape would find every single way he can to pick on them - not that he hadn't already done so since the beginning of the year. Fred and George had kept their little...invention in their pockets, "just in case". Wood wasn't quite fond of the idea of magic fireworks exploding in his face during a Quidditch match, but at this point he had given up on stopping the twins from doing things.

Another thing that bothered Harry was the fact that Snape was everywhere he went. It was almost as if the professor was following him...but Matthias had been on guard and was able to sniff every corner and predict where the guy was just from his footsteps. Matthias began to cling on to Harry, never leaving his side, and it felt like every single time Snape saw Harry with the blond he became more and more irritated. It was almost as if the professor was trying to get the raven when he was alone...

And then there was Matthias. Harry caught the boy staring at him from time to time, as if observing his every move. Whenever Harry felt the strange tingle down his spine he knew that someone was staring at him and in most cases it was the Dane. Matthias tried to hide it, but it was becoming more and more obvious that it seemed that he, too, was stalking Harry. Harry soon realized that there was a possibility that Matthias was trying to figure out the best way to kill him using dark magic. That thought certainly didn't calm him down, and the raven began trying to avoid Matthias - yet it was impossible, because he followed Harry everywhere.

Finally, the day of the match has arrived, and Harry was as anxious as ever. He knew that the second he entered the changing room, there was no turning back, and no guarantee that he will return to Ron and Hermione alive. Wood had given the team some pep talk, but that didn't exactly comfort him since he barely payed attention to it. Instead, he was thinking about what people would say if he used a rope and tied himself to his Nimbus Two Thousand...

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione had picked their seats at the stands, next to Neville. Matthias had decided to sit somewhere else, so he could 'look at Harry from another angle just in case he decides to fall again'...Ron could still see the blond's face though, poking out from the crowds on the opposite sides of the stand, staring intently at the Gryffindor players that were mounting their brooms. Even though he looked fairly similar to everyone else, Matthias's face somehow stood out and it was quite easy to spot him. It wasn't a particularly bad thing, since Hermione had told him to keep an eye on their Danish friend for any suspicious activity. They hadn't confirmed the whole 'dark wizards' thing yet but Ron had grown quite wary, and Hermione had pointed out that it would be better for Matthias to sit with them so it would be easier to look at him and make sure he doesn't try anything...but Ron was quite fine with him being far away because the vibes he got from the blond was getting more disturbing as time passes.

"And remember, it's _Locomotor Mortis_." Hermione whispered. Ron rolled his eyes and muttered a 'yes', too tired to argue. It's the Leg-Locker curse - after the whole incident with Neville, Ron and Hermione had gotten the idea to use it (specifically on Snape) just in case something happens.

"Huh? What are you guys talking about?" Neville, who was sitting beside Hermione, inched closer to join in their conversation. His eyes traveled to the wand that Ron was slipping up his sleeve. "You brought your wands? Why?"

Ron chuckled nervously. "No reason, I just found it comforting to have it with me at all times." He shrugged. "I thought everyone did that?"

"Huh, now that I think about it..." Neville scratched his head. "I should start doing that too, just in case Malfoy...er, I-i mean, I probably won't use it, b-but..."

"Yeah, consider carrying your wand with you everywhere you go." Hermione patted the boy's back. "Now all of you shush, I'm watching Harry. Oh, and Snape too."

"Huh." Ron mumbled, squinting. "Snape looks kinda...angry? Pissed? Murderous?"

"It's probably because of Dumbledore...he couldn't try anything now that the Headmaster is watching." Hermione had a small smirk on her face.

"Oh, hi Ron. Hi Hermione."

Hermione jumped and Ron almost dropped his wand. Tino, who was suddenly standing next to Ron, smiled back at him. Berwald was beside him, holding his hand as if they were a couple.

"O-oh, when did you get here?" Ron let out a shaky laugh as Tino took the seat next to him.

"Um...just now?" He tilted his head, and Ron swore he saw Berwald blush.

"Harry almost got him by a Bludger." Hermione spoke up, ignoring every conversation that didn't have the words 'Harry' or 'Quidditch' in it. Ron shot a quick apologetic glance at Tino and Berwald before turning his attention to Harry, and-

"Ow!" Ron hissed, feeling a small, sharp pain on the back of his head. Someone had poked him, hard. He furiously turned around to face none other than Malfoy and his 'friends'. Is no one going to bother questioning how he got friends?

"Oh, sorry, Weasly, didn't see you there." He sneered, then turned to Hermione and Neville. "Anyone want to bet how long Harry will stay on his broom this time?"

No-one answered him - George Weasley hit a Bludger at him so he gave Hufflepuff a penalty. Tino was silently fuming, Berwald glared at Malfoy, and Hermione didn't give a damn and was staring at Harry without blinking. It was almost creepy. After a few minutes, when Snape rewarded the Hufflepuffs with a penalty again for no reason, Malfoy spoke again.

"You know how they chose people for the Gryffindor team? They choose people who they feel sorry for. Potter's got no parents. The Weasleys' got no money." He smirked at Neville. "And you should join it too, Longbottom, you have no brains."

"And you have no friends." Berwald stated, not looking away from the Quidditch match. Malfoy eyed him, outraged.

"Excuse me, a Hufflepuff like you shouldn't-"

"Being in Hufflepuff just means that people like us more than they like you." The blond shrugged, his glasses glinting in the sunlight. Ron had to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

"Why you-"

"Y-yeah, Malfoy! I'm worth twelve of you!" Neville awkwardly stammered, and it was Malfoy who began chortling.

"Oh, is that so?" The blond's smile was evil. "If brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley!"

Neville wasn't about to step down. He took a deep breath, and stuttered, "Y-you're a puss-spewing f-festering boil on a prolapsed d-dog anus!"

Malfoy was taken aback by the comment, and he took a step back, shocked. His mouth was moving but he wasn't sputtering out nonsense, or anything at all, for that matter. Ron gave Neville a broad grin, and the boy weakly twisted his lips up in return, but he looked relieved. Tino giggled before suddenly roaring with hysterical laughter.

"Guys, guys!" Hermione screamed, frantically waving one hand in front of Ron's face and pointing to the sky with the other. It was Harry - he had gone into a spectacular dive, escalating quicker and quicker to the ground below, wind blowing through his hair, messing it up, his glasses barely staying on his face. Hermione jumped from her seat and began cheering as Harry shot down like a bullet.

"Oh, look, Weasley!" Malfoy jeered. "Harry just spotted some money on the ground!"

Ron had had enough. Before anyone could react, he had launched himself onto Malfoy, wrestling him to the ground, punching, clawing, even biting. Malfoy shrieked and began pushing, trying to push him off. The struggle went on, with Neville watching in awe, rigid with fear. After a few seconds, Neville snapped out of it and let out an inhuman wail that was very...un-Neville-like, and began savagely attacking Crabbe and Goyle. Ron caught a glimpse of Tino's eyes flashing with fury before he, too, stood up from his seat.

There was a moment of silence from both Ron and Malfoy when the small cinnamon roll of a boy pulled out a _gun_ from _nowhere_.

Just at that moment, Harry had swooped down gracefully and pulled himself back up, a small glittering gold ball in his hands. The crowd's cheering masked the booming of gunshots and Malfoy's twisted screams that rang in Ron's ears.

...

"He did _what_?"

Ron nodded feebly, gulping. "H-he's with Dumbledore right now, and Malfoy is in the hospital wing, a-and I'm sure Madam Pomfrey c-could do something about it..." He trailed off, uncertain.

"My _God_." Denmark murmured. Seriously, Finland materialized his guns and began _shooting_ someone? Not only will that get him potentially expelled, it might also draw other suspicions towards their group as well! Denmark began massaging his forehead, trying to clear his thoughts. God, what was he doing to do about this? The Dane tried to force a smile that wasn't as reassuring as it was supposed to be.

"W-well, at lease you and Neville are fine, right?"

Ron, who looked like he didn't want to continue further, pretended to smile and nodded as well. Hermione just sighed. "Look on the bright side! We _won_!"

It was just then that the three spotted Harry emerge from the corner of the hallway, a bit shaken. Hermione immediately ran up to him and pulled the boy into a tight embrace. "Where have you _been_?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer but Ron cut him off. "We won, Harry! And Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed and I gave Malfoy a black eye and now Malfoy is in the Hospital Wing with a bullet in his stomach-"

" _What_?" exclaimed, shocked and slightly disturbed. Ron gave him the 'we'll take about this later' look. Harry gulped and nodded.

"N-never mind that now, wait 'til you hear this." He began pacing the halls, with Ron and Hermione and Matthias following, confused, until he found an empty room. His eyes darted around as if making sure that no-one was around them before he pulled them in and shut the door.

"What is it?" Matthias tilted his head.

"I-i saw Quirrell..." Harry mumbled. "He was in the Forbidden Forest, with Snape...Snape mentioned the Philosopher's Stone and asked how to get pass Fluffy..." There was a gasp from Hermione. Harry inhaled and continued, "A-and Snape told Quirrell that he wouldn't want him as an enemy, a-and he said something about where Quirrell's loyalty lies..." Harry paused. "That's all I remember."

"So we were right!" Hermione whisper-shouted. "Snape _is_ after the Stone, and Quirrell has to stand up to him in order to secure it!"

"The stone would be gone by next week." Ron muttered.

* * *

It was dark. Prussia didn't know where he was, but all he could see was complete blackness. Maybe it was just his vision being bad, he didn't know. All he knew that he was sitting in a strange and painful posture, and he wanted to get up so, so bad. The fallen nation's head was throbbing since the second he regained consciousness, and holy hell, the back of his neck burned, as if someone had set it on fire and stomped on him. On top of that, his muscles ached like crazy, and his limbs were stiff after being in an uncomfortable position for so long. Trying to ignore the pain that seared through his neck and the pounding in his brain, Prussia shifted around, trying to get the feeling back into his legs.

It then occurred to him that it was next to impossible to move. His incinerated neck still worked perfectly fine, as he found out after twisting it slightly, but harsh sting was too much to bare so it wasn't really worth it to move. His arms and legs were frozen, and he felt an invisible force binding them, but he was sure there was no rope. Prussia clenched his teeth and tried to move again - it didn't work. He tried again, and again, and again, until his body was thrashing around madly, and yet his arms and legs didn't move. His neck was sore, and he was driven to the brink of insanity, ready to give up.

It was not until Prussia heard distant voices that he realized that he didn't know where he was. Squinting, the dissolved nation scanned the area - he could see very faint outlines of walls and a door - the room was as small and cramped, and it was hard to breath - but he wasn't claustrophobic, so it wasn't that bad, he supposed. Other than that, he couldn't make out anything with his limited blurry vision. A sudden chill ran down his spine when he heard the same voices again, but they were clearer this time. He strained his ears to try to catch what they were saying, and to his horror, it was Professor Quirrell's voice. It seemed that the man was talking to someone else, with a deep, booming, sinister voice that, frankly, scared Prussia, as much as he didn't want to admit it.

"And the bird?" The unfamiliar voice asked - but it was more like a growl. Prussia felt a sudden chill down his spine. Bird? Are they referring to...to...Gilbird?

"Ah, yes. She was on spying duty, as usual, following the German kid." Quirrell's voice responded. He wasn't sputtering like he usually did, and spoke with quite confidence. "She was caught by the damn puffin, who threatened to tell the boy, Emil, was it-"

Prussia went rigid. Emil. Iceland was in trouble. It's not Gilbird, but Iceland was still definitely someone important. The albino shook his head and kept listening. The voices were coming closer, so it didn't take as much effort to hear.

"And then she made quick work of the puffin. And yet she couldn't manage to kill a single small boy." Finished Quirrell, sounding quite annoyed.

There was a moment of eerie silence before the second voice spoke again. "Quirrell, I never told you about that boy, did I?"

"Erm, no, my lord..." Quirrell sounded puzzled. "All you did was tell me to kidnap him, but you never told me why, sir. What about him?"

"That boy." The unfamiliar voice whispered so quietly that it was almost inaudible, even to Prussia. "He is the key to our goal, Quirrell."

"What do you mean?" Quirrell's voice asked as it crept closer still. Prussia found himself holding his breath. "I thought the Mirror of Erised was the key?"

"That may be true, but this boy must _know_ how all this works and how the Mirror can help."

"How?" Professor Quirrel questioned. Prussia, too, was rigid from a strange mixture of overflowing curiosity and panic. The nation had no idea what they were talking about - what mirror? What goal?

"He is immortal." The voice rasped. "Didn't you hear the ghosts' conversations at all, you dumb twat?"

Prussia knew that Professor Quirrel and whoever it was was right outside the door. There was a slight creak as the doorknob was turned and the large wooden structure parted from its frame, a sliver of light shone through the gaps before the door was flung open completely. Blinding light pierced through Prussia's crimson eyes and he hissed, shutting them tight. A tall, then figure blocked part of the light from him, casting large, unnerving shadow over the albino. Prussia opened his eyes just a little for a peak, and Professor Quirrell's pale face appeared before him. There was hate in the eyes that bore into the nation's and his mouth was curled into an ugly smile that didn't match with the feeble Quirrel that Prussia thought he knew.

"Immortal, my lord?" The professor's chuckle was twisted and vile, and the fallen nation could do nothing but stare frightfully. "Is this why you want me to capture him?"

"Of course, Quirrell. The paintings have confirmed that they had seen him before, many centuries ago. Isn't that right, _Gilbert_?" The voice snarled, and Prussia let out a terrified squeak and shrunk down to the floor. The dissolved nation couldn't quite figure out who that voice belong to - and he couldn't see anyone behind Quirrell despite the murmurs coming from there. He gulped, took a deep breath, and furrowed his eyebrows, forcing himself to look threatening - or at least not scared, but his heart was pounding.

"I-i do not know what you are talking about." The albino tried to sound confident, but there was still a stutter. He stared right into the Professor's eyes - and almost spat in disgust. He saw nothing but spite.

" _Don't lie_." The unfamiliar sharp voice snapped, and every single shred of confidence was instantly drained from the albino. Professor Quirrell smirked at the boy's reaction, and soon his malicious cackle began filling the air.

"Tell me, how did you get the Philosopher's Stone?"

Prussia blinked. He tried to rack his brain for anything related to this...stone, but he knew nothing of it. He inhaled and puffed out his chest, trying to calm down his nerves. It didn't work, and he could feel the tremor in his body. "I d-don't know w-what you're talking about."

"Mm." The voice murmured. "Quirrell, have you sound-proofed the room?"

"Erm...yes, my lord."

"Then...Quirrell, as you please."

The Professor nodded, and slowly he pointed a long, twisted piece of wood to Prussia's chest. The fallen nation's heart began rattling madly, his eyes widened before he shut them tight, embracing himself for whatever the man was going to do to him. And calmly, and ever so softly, the man whispered,

"Adava kedavra."

There was a slight sizzling sound, and the next thing Prussia knew he was struck in the chest with an unbearable, immense pain. He immediately screamed out of instinct, a long, terror-stricken scream of agony until it felt like his vocal chords would shatter. It felt like being stabbed a million times with a knife, and his hard, stinging pain flared from his chest to the rest of his body. Lights flashed before his eyes, and it felt like his entire brain was having a spasm in his skull. And then more force was put into the spell, and he screeched louder still, tears beginning to sting his eyes as he tried to fight off the insufferable pain. His heart felt torn to a million pieces, and so was his body, and everything else. The world melted right in front of his eyes, and his entire body felt like it was being crushed to pieces and stepped on and burned alive. It was simply too much.

When it finally stopped, the nation was horrendously close to unconsciousness. He was overcome with a relieving numbness that didn't quite spread far enough to reach his brain and his fluttering heart. His panted, feeling the scorch in his lungs every time he inhaled. And again, the tears found themselves escaping from his eyes, sliding down his smoldered cheek before dripping of his chin. When the nation opened his mouth for a gasp of oxygen, the chilly air outside collided with his throat which resulted in a violent coughing fit. And, with a dry throat, Prussia closed his eyes, his chest heaving as he lay there helplessly. He felt himself slipping away, slowly...

There was a snicker, and it forced Prussia awake. "Now tell me," It was Professor Quirrell, his voice barely a whisper. "How did you get the Philospher's Stone?"

Prussia coughed once more. "I-I keep t-t-telling you, I d-don't know!"

"Very well." Prussia heard the swoosh of a cloak, indicating that the man had lifted his wand up once again. "Adava kedavra."

* * *

 **A/N: Don't you just love torturing your favourite characters?**

 **Please don't kill me**


	15. Chapter 15

**Warning: There will be violence in this chapter too. A second warning will be placed before the scene, because I know some people skip the author's notes.  
**

 **A/N: You probably already notice that violence is becoming more and more frequent. Should I change the ratings? I kinda want to keep it at T, but...meh? I mean, it's not that much in this chapter, I've seen far more in T rated Dragoncall Z fanfiction...**

 **Anyways, that aside, I'm finally done with this chapter! It's kinda...bad? But read it anyway :v**

 **Thank you all so much for all your support! Waking up to see notifications of reviews and follows and favourites will make my day!**

 **Also, note that I'm updating this story exactly a year after I first published it :v (I published it on the 21st, but because of time zones it's changed to the 20th. Hopefully the dates will match up this time, hehe...)**

 **Welp, I write this instead of studying for upcoming mid-term exams. In a few days. Should I be scared?**

* * *

"Who knew memory erasing could be this hard?" Romania grumbled, massaging his temples in an attempt to get rid of his headache. "God...I haven't erased memories in years, it's more difficult than I remembered."

"You're skills are just rusty, if you ever had them in the first place." Scotland scoffed.

"But all is done." Norway looked as relieved as Norway could look. "Maybe it was just harder because we tried doing it to everyone in the school at the same time." He was going to continue, but hesitated. "But I'm afraid this kind of memory-erasing is only temporary."

"It is..." Scotland furrowed his eyebrows. "The only thing we could do is hope that everyone forgets for just enough time for Denmark, Finland, Sweden, and Iceland to finish the year."

"Of course, of course." Norway nodded, and then to Finland, "Please don't do that again, it's not easy to fix it."

Finland smiled sheepishly. "Y-yeah, I mean, Malfoy does make fun of me all the time, for the weird hiccuping-mewing thing, for being 'wimpy'...I guess something just got into me."

"Materialize your guns. All of them." Scotland commanded, and reluctantly, the small blond did just that. Norway conjured up a large chest, and Romania helped put them all in there before using a spell to bind it shut.

"Now please, don't try to kill students next time. Even if they're Malfoy. He's as much trouble as he is, and his father..." Norway paused. "And my brother told me that while he was waiting for Mr. Puffin to heal, Malfoy kept throwing rude remarks at him."

"Speaking of the puffin, is he okay yet?" Finland inquired, worried for the bird despite its bad mouth and its almost Prussia-like narcissism.

"Just like Hanatamago. Mr. Puffin had stayed with Iceland long enough to become immortal to live with us, and, well, it also comes with an immunity to spells. That's why the nurse couldn't heal Prussia, remember, wife?" Sweden stated as-a-matter-of-factly, feeling the need to insert the word 'wife' in his every sentence.

"Ah, I see."

"It's almost time for your classes." Scotland looked as his watch as he lit another cigarette. "You three better go, me and Romania are going to stay here and continue with the spells in the book - it's missing so many pages that it's hard to make anything out of it. We might even have to resort in writing our own spells, but that'll take some time."

"Right." Norway nodded. "Fin, Sve."

As they were exiting Norway's room, the emotionless voice called out one more time, "And don't let yourself get caught in here, you didn't exactly get permission to come here, you know."

Scotland rolled his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock."

There was a small huff from Norway. "It's a wonder how you even managed to get pass the strong magic security and get in here."

"Perks of being Scotland!"

* * *

The few weeks following, Quirrel had become thinner and paler, but he hadn't died yet, so that was fine, at least... Snape had grown very cranky, and the dog was still growling every time Harry and his friends checked, so he assumed it was all good. It wasn't exactly Quirrell who Harry was worried about, though. Matthias too, had grown noticeably paler, and also much, much quieter now that Gilbert had mysteriously gone off, apparently having special lessons with Professor Bondevik - staying so late they he had to sleep in the Norwegian's room every night, not having time to come up to meet Matthias at all. Yet Tino was even worse, and whenever he entered the Great Hall to greet Matthias, he looked as white as a ghost - even Berwald was visibly more disturbed than usual. Perhaps it had rubbed off on Matthias. Not only that, but the boy Emil, who was already very quiet and troubled enough normally, barely spoke any hello's to Matthias and instead finished his meals in a hurry before speeding off somewhere. This made Matthias even more upset, and he would often pout and mumble to himself as a result. Harry was starting to get a bit worried.

Yet, none of this seemed to be in Hermione's mind, as she was now frantically studying for the exams that were ten weeks away. Of course, this wasn't a problem in itself, since she is, ya know, Hermione, but she had also forced Harry, Ron, and even Matthias to study too. The teachers, being teachers, seemed to be thinking the same thing and had gotten everyone unbearable piles of homework. Throughout the days the group sat in the library, flipping through textbooks filled with spells and shit. Hermione had caught Matthias often reading an old leather-bound, seemingly half-burnt fiction book he had gotten from Bondevik. The bushy-haired girl had tried to confiscate it so he would focus on work, but he gave her the most bloodcurdling glare anyone had ever seen and hurriedly slipped the book back in his bag. Hermione and Harry was slightly taken aback, and never questioned it again. Ron, however, had taken quite an interest on the thing, and would ask Matthias what it was about, but every time he would always avoid the question and put it away as quickly as possible. It was until Harry had asked the redhead why he was so interested that he revealed that Nicolas Flamel's name was on the cover - or so he thought, since he only caught a glimpse of it once before Matthias returned it to Lukas.

"I thought we should look more into this, seeing that Nicolas Flamel had been associated with dark wizards." Ron had told him when Matthias went to use the bathroom one time - it was the only few minutes they had to talk privately, since the blond had been clinging onto them much more than he already has. "But, er, Hermione seems a bit...preoccupied." He gestured to the girl, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at a textbook, twirling her wand in the air. Harry sighed and nodded.

"I don't think she's going to let us do anything else besides studying. Maybe the Philosopher's Stone can wait." Harry spoke in a hushed tone - it was much too risky to let anyone else out of their group know what they were doing; he didn't even trust Matthias's Hufflepuff friends that much, but both Harry and Ron had already assumed that he blabbed all about it to them, since they were there when Harry saw Fluffy for the first time. They were probably curious, and Harry saw no reason why Matthias wouldn't tell them about the dog. Hermione, however, didn't see them as a threat as much as Ron did; the readhead was quite wary because of their suspicions to be tied with dark magic. Hermione didn't let them do anything about the Stone nor the dark magicians until they studied and passed the exams, so those are Harry's number 1 priority as of now.

"What even _is_ this?" Matthias grumbled on one particular day that Hermione had pulled them into the library again. The Dane had been staring at the same page for the last thirty minutes looking rather confused, flipping the parchment around and looking at it from different angles as if it would reveal some sort of hidden message that will solve his dilemma. Hermione was too concentrated on reading her own things to even notice, and Ron groaned when she began reciting the twelve uses of dragon blood. The Weasley threw his his quill on his books in frustration, successfully dirtying it with an excessive amount of ink. Harry felt like doing the same, but at that exact moment Hermione looked up from her pile of books and parchment and gave Ron the Hairy Eyeball.

Harry gripped his quill, hovering it over the page as his eyes slowly trailed over to the window when he knew Hermione wasn't looking. He soon found out that Ron and Matthias, too, were staring at the open field outside longingly, Ron occasionally huffing with irritation. It was quite a beautiful day today, better than any other they had in a while. The sky was clear and blue, and Harry sighed, imagining himself soaring in it on his broom, wind rushing through his hair, his stomach twisting and turning as he flipped and danced. But all he could do is dream - Hermione wouldn't talk about anything else other than the dreaded exams.

"Alfred..." Harry heard Matthias mutter under his breath as he gazed outside.

"Huh?" Ron asked. That seem to make the blond snap out of his dream-like state.

"Oh, uhm, it's just that the sky, it's the colour of that flower, um, Forget-Me-Nots, and Alfred's friend Da...nevermind." he said quickly, cutting himself off. "It's nothing." Harry decided not to inquire any further.

Hermione, who was oblivious to the entire conversation, suddenly perked up. "Oh, hi, Hagrid." It was then that Harry noticed the tall figure that loomed over him, and he smiled and greeted the giant warmly. Matthias forced a smile and muttered a small 'hi', but that was it. Hagrid almost jumped with Hermione's greeting, and he turned to them nervously, his hands behind his back.

"Hagrid! What are you doing here in the library?" Ron tilted his head.

"Nothin' you need to worry about." He added gruffly, and it caught the kids' interest at once. "And what're yeh up to, yer not lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

Matthias snickered. "Oh, I- er, we found out about him ages ago."

"Yeah!" Ron smirked proudly. "And we found out that the dog is guarding the Phylosopher's Stone-"

"SHHHH! Are yer crazy? Don't go about shoutin' it so loud!" the giant hissed, clearly irritated. "And I'm warning yeh, don't go lookin' deeper into this-"

"Oh, and we have some things to ask you too." Harry cut in, ignoring most of Hagrid's words. "We want to know what's guarding the Stone, besides Flu-"

Hagrid frantically shushed them again. "Look, come and see me later - I ain't telling you anything, but-"

"See you later then." Ron rudely interrupted. Hagrid huffed and shuffled off, his enormous hands still covering the book that he was holding.

"Wonder what he's reading?" Matthias tilted his head. Harry shrugged, and Ron got up and trotted to the section of the library that the giant had been searching. A moment later, he raced back, a large pile of books in his arms, swaying dangerously with every step, threatening to fall down any minute. Thankfully, the redhead placed them safely on the table, so Harry, Matthias, and Hermione could clearly see the titles.

"Dragons?" Hermione muttered thoughtfully, scanning the pile of books in front of her.

"He had always wanted a dragon," Harry hummed. "He said so since we'd met."

"You don't think..." Matthias trailed off.

"No, it can't be." Hermione shook her head.

"Yeah, it's against the law!" Ron whispered-shouted. "Dragon breeding had been outlawed due to the safety hazards, they're hard to tame, and, well, it's hard not to raise suspicion from the muggles if you have dragons in the back yard." He paused, and visibly shivered. "Plus, you should see the burns Charlie got from the wild ones in Romania!"

"Wild Romanian dragons?" Matthias tapped his chin, seemingly deep in thought. "I should ask Vlad..."

"Who?"

"Nothing." Matthias shook his head, and both Ron and Hermione narrowed their eyes. "Carry on."

"Well, there aren't any wild dragons here in Britain, is there?" Harry asked worriedly, and Hermione nodded.

"Of course there are." Ron replied. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks, and the Government's trying all they can to shush them up, you know, putting spells on muggles to erase their memories and whatnot."

Hermione sighed. "Then what is Hagrid up to?"

...

The second time Harry saw the strange men from Professor Bondevik's class was during dinner that same day, when he was simply trying to enjoy his small bowl of mushroom soup while ignoring Hermione's yapping about the one thousand different types of magical herbs and fungi. The doors of the Great Hall suddenly flung open and hit the wall with a loud, deafening bang that silenced all conversation in the room. The few students with cat-like reflexes had covered their ears when it happened, while most weren't fast enough, and had gotten temporarily deaf for a few seconds. That was enough time for Harry's eyes to process the familiar strawberry blond hair darting into the hall. Harry noted that he was wearing the Gryffindor Quidditch team cloak instead of his muggle trench coat like last time. It was a bit disturbing. Where did he get the cloak?

"Whoa!" Came an almost child-like voice, full of excitement and wonder, holding a very strong Romanian accent. "England's school is so cool!" It was literally the only voice in the room speaking, and thousands of perplexed eyes fixed on the man as he turned, his smile slowly faltering.

"Um...hi?" He muttered awkwardly, suddenly standing quite still with his only movement being his weight shifting from one foot to another. "It's, er, a nice evening today, isn't it? Heheh..." He trailed off.

"Who is this man?" Professor McGonagall's voice was shrill as she stood up from her seat at the teacher's table, pointing an accusing finger. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The man opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly dropped down to the floor with a loud thud. Harry wasn't quite sure what happened, but he was certain that the man was karate-chopped on the back of the neck by a certain Norwegian teacher, who was now standing behind him, much to everyone's shock.

"He's just a friend who unexpectedly visited, please, ignore him and carry on with your meal." The assistant professor dipped his head politely to the rest of the teachers, then to the baffled students. And one by one they began resuming their meal, but now all discussions are about the strange man, it seems. Headmaster Dumbledore stared at Bondevik with an unreadable expression, while the other teachers, too, began whispering and glancing at the unmoving figure that lay on the ground. Harry could have sworn that he heard Malfoy come up with some stupid conspiracy theories about the poor guy, whose unconscious body was now being dragged outside by a surprisingly strong Professor Bondevik. The wooden double doors closed behind them.

" _What are you thinking_?" Norway hissed in his usual monotone voice when he and Romania were out in the halls alone, grasping him by the collar. "You _can't_ just barge in there, you _idiot_."

"But Nor, I want to eat with everyone else! I'm tired of you sneaking food in for me and Scot in your room!" Romania pouted like a child. "And you're lucky I was nice enough to pretend to faint after you hit me in the back of the head..."

Norway sighed."You can't barge in like that. _Especially_ when you have your Harry Potter cosplay on, come on-"

"But I want to see Har-" The vampire stopped himself from talking when he got a look that resembled a glare from the dim blue eyes, but it was hard to tell. "Can I eat here without talking to Harry?"

"No."

"Can I at least see your boyfriend then-" Romania got another hairy eyeball from the Norwegian, whose eyes now darted around to see if anyone heard it. The vampire gulped and cleared his throat. "I mean, can I see Matthias?"

There was a pause. "...Fine. Don't touch my brother though. You can talk to that stupi-" It was Norway's turn to stop himself, since it probably wasn't the best idea for a teacher to call a student 'stupid'. "You can talk to him all you want, let me call him outside..."

"...But I want to talk to him in the Great Hall? While eating dinner?" Romania gave Norway the big puppy-dog eyes that America would always do, except Romania's eyes were red and were capable of charming and/or hypnotising, just like any other vampire. Norway's face remained expressionless for a few moments before he muttered a small 'fine'. Romania let out a high-pitched yip of joy that sounded strangely like a crazed chihuahua, and he raced back to the doors of the Great Hall.

"And please don't make people deaf this time." Norway's flat voice called after him. "And don't go near my brother."

Back in the Great Hall, Harry was still trying to ignore the strange vibes coming from the man that had so abruptly barged in and interrupted his dinner, but it was more or less impossible. There was something...off about him. And it wasn't the same as Matthias either, this man felt even more...odd. Even though Matthias, Gilbert, and their Hufflepuff friends possessed the same aura of being out-of-place in the school, but this new man also had something different. There was almost something...sinister about him, and the feeling very much bugged Harry. Harry knew that the presumably Romanian held even more power than anyone he had every seen, combined.

Harry was about to go insane when the door opened again, albeit slower and with less force this time. The same small red hat appeared, and there the man was again, joyfully observing the environment without much interruption this time. Harry's stomach turned and he stared anxiously at the person who was now headed straight at his table - and straight to him, it seemed. To Harry's surprise, when he began talking, his words weren't directed at Harry.

"Matthias! Long time no see!" The man laughed, pulling the Dane into a tight embrace, earning stares from everyone on the table while the whispering from the Slytherins grew louder. The man's peculiar sharp ears perked up and _twisted_ , as if to hear the conversations all around the room. He smiled. "Ha, you're so tiny."

"Oh, shut up. " Matthias giggled. This was the first time in a while that Harry had seen the blond truly happy like he had been at the start of the year. "Vlad! How are ya? Are you OK after that devastating attack from Nor?"

The person, now dubbed Vlad, chortled. "I'm fine, I'm fine! He didn't..." His voice softened, and his unnaturally red eyes that reminded Harry so much of Gilbert seemed to glow ever so slightly. "... _kill_ me or anything." He grinned. "Besides, you've lived with him for longer, I'm surprised you're not minced meat yet."

Matthias chuckled, and it turned into a long, full laugh that honestly felt very refreshing after all those days of him moping around. The blond suddenly picked up and held in the air by Vlad, and both were now in a fit of snorts roars. This, of course, got the attention of everyone in the room again, since they were the loudest human beings that had ever existed. But perhaps because of Matthias's reputation, the students seemed to begin ignoring it really quickly, though the teachers still seemed wary. Harry, too, wasn't quite of this newcomer, considering his growing suspicions for Matthias and Vlad himself. There was just...something with the man that felt...off. Harry could be wrong, but he thought he spotted some small, sharp fangs in Vlad's open mouth - but it was probably just a trick of the light; besides, normal people had canine teeth, and some had sharper ones than others...right?

After all was done and the Dane was slumped back down in his seat, gasping for air between small chuckles, Vlad had already pulled up a chair from nowhere and forced it into the spot beside Matthias and Harry. It was a tight fit, but he did it anyway, and had hopped into the chair, leaning back into a long slouch. The two took their sweet time to calm themselves down and breathed evenly before both sprung up again, Matthias picking his fork back up and Vlad stealing whatever was on Matthias's plate. Harry watched them closely as they began to chat.

"So how is it?" Matthias had asked Vlad, thought Harry didn't quite understand what 'it' is.

"Oh, it's going pretty well, actually!" Vlad smiled. "Even though we have absolutely no clues, thanks to that certain boo- thing that Ice- Emil found, we've managed to fine some pretty useful spe- er, stuff." Vlad coughed, probably sensing that Harry was listening intently to his every word. The dark-haired boy smirked to himself. Vlad wasn't that good at hiding what he was saying, so it was pretty clear that the book Matthias had gotten had something to do with spells. Harry kept on listening, wanting to find out about these...'clues' that they were talking about.

"Is that so?" Matthias chuckled, almost nervously, as his eyes darted to Harry before focusing back on Vlad. The man noticed, and he stopped talking.

"Let's...talk about this somewhere else..." Vlad muttered awkwardly before taking Matthias's bowl of mushroom soup. The blond only had time to shout a 'hey!' before Vlad began gulping it down rapidly. Ron, who was sitting in the seat across from him, laughed when he pulled the bowl away from his face to reveal a mushroom soup mustache. Hermione, on the other had, stayed muted, appearing to be even more suspicious of Vlad than Harry is.

"So, Harry Potter, eh?" The boy jumped and almost dropped his spoon when Vlad unexpectedly spoke his name. He turned around to see the man, smiling at him, his strange little canine tooth poking out over his bottom lip, almost like a bunny. Harry nodded, not sure how to respond. And he thought he was safe from his fame...

"Oooh, cool!" Vlad's smile grew, and he grabbed the Gryffindor boy's hand and shook it maniacally until Harry felt like his arm would rip off of the rest of his body at any moment now. "I'm a big fan! My friend Arthur even started a club back at home where one of the activities was dressing up like you and that's the clothes I'm in right now, and that's why I don't have my normal trench coat on! Oh, it's so cool to meet you in real life! Can we be friends? Can I have your number? Oh, oh, take a selfie with me, Bulga- my friend will be so jealous! I should have come to teach here with Nor, but God, I have so much work and I only came to take a look at the boo- I mean to visit! And never in my life had I ever thought of getting to speak to you, Harry Potter!"

Harry felt dizzy and confused, being bombarded by an absurd amount of questions and comments while being hand-shaked to death, if that was possible. But Matthias, Harry's savior, had come to the rescue.

"He doesn't like the attention, calm down and speak to him like a normal person." He giggled. Good ol' Matthias. Vlad's red eyes blinked.

"You only say that because you haven't heard of him for years, since you've only entered the wizarding world." Vlad huffed. "You've been a muggle your whole life."

"Hey! At least I was a viki-" He stopped himself and sniffed. "At least I'm cool."

"Pfft" The Romania chuckled, rolling his eyes. "And tell me who's better at magic?"

"And tell me who can build working lego canons and beat people with them?" It was Matthias's turn to smirk. Vlad raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, right!" Matthias suddenly piped up after another spoonful of roasted pork. He turned to Harry, then to Ron and Hermione. "I haven't introduced you guys, haven't I?"

"Nope." Vlad shrugged. "And it was rude to disrespect the guest like that, wasn't it? Hadn't England's school taught you some proper gentlemanly manners?"

Matthias rolled his electric blue eyes and jabbed a finger at Vlad. "This is Vlad, Nor- er, Lukas's friend from Romania. He sometimes comes to my house to hang out with No- Lukas, and 99% of the time they would set something on fire or break things or switch our bodies or, God forbid, turn us all into females." The blond shuddered from an obviously traumatizing memory.

"Well, it's not like you're any better at not ruining stuff." Vlad sniffed. "And besides, the body switching thing was an accident."

"And turning us all into females wasn't?" Matthias shrieked, gaining the attention from the teachers at the table. Vlad understood this, shushed him, and told him to sit the fuck back down.

"A-and Ice- Emil had to spend whole days _bleeding_ -" He stopped. "I probably shouldn't talk about that."

"Well, I'm Ronald Weasley and this is Hermione Granger." Ron hesitated. "And this is, as you know, Harry Potter." The Gryffindor boy knew that Matthias was reliving such disturbing memories that he probably didn't want to continue their introduction, so he decided to introduce himself. Vlad perked up.

"Ronald Weasley? I worked with your brother Charlie a few times back at home!" And with that statement, both Ron and Vlad beamed.

"...Well." Matthias awkwardly said when Ron and Vlad began chatting like old friends, first about Charlie, then about dragons, then the conversation shifted to the Weasleys. They seemed pretty happy, but Vlad was avoiding all questions about his family and relatives. Harry couldn't help but find this just a bit suspicious, considering the strange aura around this man, and not to mention his and Ron's and Hermione's theory of Matthias's entire family and all his friends being dark wizards. It was just a hunch, but Harry couldn't bring himself to trust Vlad completely.

The rest of Harry's meal was finished in silence - and despite him leaning in ever so often to listen to Matthias's and Vlad's conversations, he still didn't find anything out to confirm his suspicions.

...

 **Warning: The following bit contains violence and just a teeny tiny bit of gore. Just to let you know.**

...

That evening, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Matthias, Tino, and Berwald crept towards the gamekeeper's hut near the Forest. Vlad had gone off somewhere with Professor Bondevik - said professor had forcibly shoved Tino and Berwald into the group. Leaning in closer to the Hufflepuffs, he muttered something about Matthias and Gilbert to the two, mentioned that Emil was in the hospital wing if they needed him, and disappeared soon afterwards. While heading to Hagrid's place, the group decided to be cautious, just in case, and tried to keep away from sight. - it wasn't exactly against the rules, since technically it wasn't that late, but they figured that Snape was definitely going to do something to them if he found out their group had been hanging about outside after dinner - especially since Snape had grown a lot more cranky these past few days. They lingered around the edges and walls of the castle, before darting through the large, open field to Hagrid's hut, hoping for the best.

Getting closer to the small hut, Harry noticed that the windows were closed and the curtains were shut completely. He thought of nothing at first, but after Hermione mentioned that it would probably be hard to breathe inside there with no air going in, he became mildly concerned about the giant. He respected Hagrid - he was nice and all, but sometimes the dark-haired boy couldn't help wondering if Hagrid had a few loose screws. Tino began knocking on the door, and, perhaps because it was quite old and wooden, the door shook and its hinges began to creak. Tino immediately stopped and took a step backwards in bewilderment. Matthias shot him a half-glare, half-are-you-serious look; the blond seemed to shrink when Berwald returned the same look, but multiplied by twenty million squared. Harry visibly shuddered.

"Who is it?" Came Hagrid's muffled voice through the door. Ron answered him, and the giant replied with a booming "Come in!"

Matthias was the one who opened the door, and he did his best to avoid letting Tino near the door - noticeably nicer this time. The students all squeezed into the hut, which now felt very cramped with the amount of people inside. Especially considering the fact that Berwald was too large and tall to be eleven, but he was eleven anyway because Matthias and his friends never made sense.

There weren't enough chairs for all of them, so Tino sat on Berwald's lap (who hugged him and didn't let go) and Matthias lay sprawled in the ground, sweat beginning to form on his brow. Ron, too, made himself as comfy as he can on the floor, and, much to his distaste, the only available spot was next the the fireplace. He scowled, but shook his head when Harry offered to take his place. The redhead narrowed his eyes at the fireplace, and it was quite obvious to Harry that the boy was thinking why there was fire in it in the first place. It was quite hot outside already, and the fire had made it especially steamy indoors. Add in a few students, and the room turns from steamy to boiling. Since it was so hot, Harry could already see in Matthias's eyes that he was craving the sweet release of death - he was literally sitting in a puddle of sweat.

"Stoat sandwiches?" Hagrid offered, holding up a plate filled with mysterious soggy bread. Harry politely declined while Matthias became rigid after a small sniff of it and looked away, putting a hand over his mouth. The only person who actually accepted a sandwich was Tino, who took a single bite before becoming increasingly green and putting the thing down. Berwald shot everyone in the room the most blood-curdling glare ever and began hugging Tino protectively.

"So...yeh wanted ter ask me somethin'?" Hagrid awkwardly began, though no one knew whether or not the giant noticed that he had poisoned a kid.

"Yes. We want to know what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone aside from Fluffy." Ron stated bluntly, to which Hagrid frowned.

"O' course I can't." The giant shook his head. "Numbeh one, I don't know myself. Numbeh two, even if I did, I wouldn't tell yeh because yeh already know too much already. It's a secret fer a reason, it's almost gotten stolen outa Gringotts. I don't know how yeh even knew about Fluffly. Seriously, haven't I told yeh not to poke yer noses into this-"

"But Hagrid." Hermione cooed, her voice warm and flattering. "We're wondering who is doing the guarding, really - after all, we're only here to ask you who Dumbledore trusts, besides his wonderful gamekeeper." With that, Hagrid's beard twitched. Was he...smiling?

"W-welll." He scratched his cheek sheepishly. "I guess it won't hurt to tell..." The large man cleared his throat. "Professor Dumbledore borrowed Fluffy from me, then some other teachers did some enchantments...let's see, Dumbledore himself...Professor Flitwick, Professor Quirrell, Professor McGonagall..." He counted them with his fingers. "Oh, an' Professor Snape too."

Suddenly, the hot and steamy room became ten times colder. " _Snape_?" Ron and Hermione's eyes were wide, and Matthias gave everyone a 'wtf' look. Tino tilted his head, confused, while Berwald ignored everything that was happening and blushed at how adorable the Fin was being.

"Yeah, yer still not on about that, are yeh? Snape is protectin' the Stone, not tryin' ta steal it." Hagrid shook his head. So Snape knew about all the spells that the other teachers had put on the Stone, except for Quirrell's, it seems, and Harry felt a chill down his spine. The boy swore he could here the voice of a certain Dane in his head whispering to him and telling him to not jump to conclusions, but it wasn't at all reassuring. Quirrell looked very close to finally breaking, so if/when it happens, the only thing standing in Snape's way would be the large, three-headed dog - and no doubt a clever professor like Snape would find a way to get through that somehow.

"Hagrid." Harry mumbled worriedly. "You're the only one who knows how to get pass Fluffy, right? And you won't tell anyone, right?"

The giant raised an eyebrow. "Only Dumbledore and I know, and I tell yeh I won't tell a soul." He squinted. "And yeh better not ask me about Fluffy again."

Harry breathed a long, shaky sigh, slightly relieved. Hermione looked shook, rocking in her chair nervously while Ron fiddled with his thumbs.

"Hey-" It was Matthias, once again breaking the silence. "It's so hot in here, can you at least open the windows or something? It's hard to breathe, I can't even see properly, my vision is going blurry, I'm blacking out, oh no..." The boy pretended to lose consciousness.

"Sorry, Matthias, can't." And for a small sliver of a second, Hagrid's eyes darted to the fireplace - and that time was enough for Harry's own eyes to follow.

"Hagrid." Harry said, after seeing the large, black thing sitting in the center of the flames. "What is that?"

"Oh..." Said man coughed awkwardly. "That's-"

Ron crouched near the fireplace to get a closer look. Harry could almost feel his face melting - it was hot enough from where he sat, but here Ron was, getting so close that his nose was almost touching the flames. "Where'd you get it? Must've costed a fortune."

"Ah. It was late night, I was down in the village, and went to a pub with Scot, met some fellow-"

"Scot?" Hermione, who had been silent for a while, decided that it would be a good time to interrupt. "Who's that?"

Hagrid blinked. "Yeh don't know him? He came with Vlad to visit Professor Bondevik. I don't know their full names, but they've always addressed themselves as such."

"Ah." Hermione nodded, and went back to being quite, but her eyes were narrowed.

"Wha-?" Matthias, it seems, was only half-joking when he said he was going to black out. His dazed eyes glazed over to the fireplace for a second, then to Hagrid, before his eyelids shut, and his breathing became fast and shallow.

"He'll be fine." Tino laughed, but he too, seemed ready to die - even Berwald had stopped hugging him, since both of them were drenched in sweat.

"Well, anyways." Hagrid continued. "I won a game of cards with some stranger. He was kind of glad ter get rid of it..."

"But what's going to happen to it when it hatches?" Hermione leaned in closer to examine the egg.

"I've bin' researching." Out from seemingly nowhere, Hagrid pulled out a book. " _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_ , outa the library just today." He opened it up and showed it to the students, but closed it just as fast as he did. "O' course, it's outdated, but it provides useful tips. Gotta keep it warm, in a fire, and when it hatches, feed the dragon a mixture of brandy and chicken blood every thirty minutes." The giant put a finger on a page. "An' see here, here's how to recognize different species. I got a Norwegian Ridgeback, a rare one, that one."

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house." The comment fell to deaf ears, and Hagrid had started feeding the fire wood and coal.

"Well, it's gettin' dark." Hagrid noted. "Yeh all better get goin' if yeh don't want detention."

"We don't." Hermione said quickly.

It seems that Hagrid didn't hear her. "Especially after what happened on the last time a student got detention..." He shook his head. "It's dangerous outside, especially since we're so close to the Forest. Better go back safe ter yeh towers."

Harry, curious, perked up at the mention of it. Matthias, too, opened one eye and proceeded to listen to the conversation silently. "What happened last detention?"

"Yeh don't know?" Hagrid blinked. "It happened to Gilbert, I told Professor Bondevik, didn't he tell you?"

" _What_?" Denmark thought he had heard it wrong. He jumped from the floor, and immediately the dizziness hit him like a train and he had to grab on the the leg of a nearby table to steady himself. It was becoming increasingly hard to breath because of the steam in the room, and he found it hard to even stand. But none of that mattered right now. "What happened to _Gilbert_?"

"Well." Hagrid was clearly uncomfortable. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were staring at him with wide eyes, while Finland looked as panicked as ever. He too, stood up, along with Sweden, who held the sniper's hand while he tried to find balance. Denmark thought that perhaps their place on the earth had gotten them used to such cold climates that the hot affected them more than anyone else.

"He went missing." Hagrid gulped. "That boy - Emil - his pet bird was there two. There were signs of struggle, and blood was on the ground."

A dry laugh escaped from Denmark's mouth. "N-no, of course he's not missing, he's training, with Lukas." The Dane coughed, not able to believe his eyes, and the world seemed to swirl around him. He fell back down to the floor, and sweat began forming on his brow for an entire new reason. "N-no, he's fine, he's with L-lukas."

"Matthias-"

"It can't be. Ha." The Dane chuckled to himself. He gave Finland a maniacal stare, a long smile stretching across his face. "This is a joke, right? He's with Lukas, right?" He got up again, this time without any problems - adrenaline was coursing through his veins. His head was still spinning, and everything else in his field of vision began to melt away, leaving only the two people who he called his family. "That's not true, Lukas said so. He told me that Gilbert was fine, and that they're very close to finding Alfred too." His was barely breathing now, his fingers twitching as he felt the handle of an axe slowly forming in his palm.

His eyes searched Finland's for any sort of answer, but all he saw was fear and guilt.

"You knew." Denmark's whisper was barely audible. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Denmark, I-"

"Alfred - I laughed the first time I heard he was gone I could hardly believe it." The blond's voice was growing louder and shakier, and lunatic giggles escaped his throat. "Scot said he'd fine him soon, but does he really care? He's lying, isn't he? He'd been lying to me this entire time. You - and Norway, and everyone else, they've all been lying. " He faced the people who he once thought were loyal, trustworthy friends, empty eyes staring at the smaller trembling male. "And now Gilbert is gone too."

He turned to Hagrid. "And _you_."

Hagrid gulped. Matthias stared right into his eyes, his face expressionless.

"You were the one who was responsible, weren't you?"

"Matthias!" Finland yelped when he saw the black battle axe in the blond's hand taking form. Berwald's eyes narrowed, his hands curling into a fist as Denmark lifted his head up and stared into his eyes with an unreadable expression. Finland, out of self-defense, tried to materialize his own weapons, when-

Shit, they're with Norway.

 _Concentrate_ , he hissed to himself. If he had enough power, he might be able to summon it, even as it sat in the small locked chest in his friend's room. But there was no time to think. Denmark's axe was there, fully formed, Hagrid's hot fire making it gleam in shades of oranges and yellows that danced around the blade. And yet, the fire in the blond's eyes were hotter, filled with newly found madness that engulfed those electric blue orbs.

Finland expected Denmark to attack him, but instead, the Dane lunged for Hagrid, his battle axe raised and his face filled with a murderous glare. The giant yelped and jumped out of the way as the blade swung at him, hitting the table and completely destroying it. Hagrid didn't even have time to think when Denmark came again, this time even faster than before. Looking around him, the giant's hands found the pot of boiling water that was hanging over his precious egg, and, ignoring the scorching pain, threw it at the student.

Denmark felt his entire body burn as it was doused with sizzling liquid, and let out a long, inhumane shriek and put his hands on his face, dropping his axe. Hagrid, who was now breathing heavily, grabbed the remains of his precious table - a sharp wooden leg. He knew it wouldn't be much, but there was no time to find a better weapon. Face now blistered and burned and deranged without any hint of sanity left, the Dane and had picked up his axe and ran ahead again, aiming straight at Hagrid.

The blade hit flesh, but it wasn't Hagrid's. Temporarily stopping his blind rage, the blond was genuinely confused and absolutely shocked when he saw the small, tender face of a certain Fin.

"Stop, please..." Finland's eyes were filled with bitterness an guilt. "Let's...stop and talk about this."

Denmark snapped out of it. Grunting, he pushed harder with his axe, and Finland's face visibly twisted in distress. But he kept going.

"I...I don't want to hurt you, Matthias, so please..."

" _Get out of my way_." Denmark hissed, his voice shockingly calm and cold as his expression hardened. Finland remained still, shaking his head.

The air rang with Matthias's screech as he backed away. Finland sighed, but his relief turned to horror when his friend charged back, battle axe raised.

Gritting his teeth, Finland dived to the side without thinking, instantly plummeting to the floor. His heart rattled in his chest as he scrambled to get up, but the Dane was already looming over his, his deadly blade held up threateningly high, his breathing turning into loud heaving that became more and more shallow as the axe shot down like a bullet in a flash of black and grey. Gasping, Finland rolled over just in time when the glistening metal met with the floor with a roaring crash, shaking the entire wooden structure of the house. Hagrid, who was on the other side of the room, yelled, stepping backwards, with Harry, Hermione, and Ron darting behind him, eyes never leaving the Dane. Finland, whose head was throbbing, once again felt around with his hand for something to support his weight so he could lift himself up, his eyes glued on the blond that stood before him.

To his horror, Finland's hands felt nothing but wall - there was no way he could roll away again. The only way he would get away was to fight the Dane - and with his now smaller body, he wasn't sure if he would be able to take on the blond head-on, much alone without his weapons. Furthermore, despite all this, Finland had no intention of hurting Denmark, because he knew that the normal, happy person was under those harsh eyes, somewhere. Letting out an ear-piercing shriek, Denmark swung his axe, aiming right for the nation's head. Finland screamed, perhaps out of instinct, and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the worst.

Nothing came.

Finland heard the swishing of metal, a grunt, and then a thundering crash that sent shivers down his spine and he curled up into a tight ball, whimpering. Hagrid once again screeched in pure horror. Finland's eyelids fluttered open ever so slightly, catching a glimpse of a much larger male body hovering over him, a long sword held in the figure's strong grip. Denmark was launched into the wall, and was now laying in a pile of debris and wood. Sweden turned to Hagrid, who was now gaping at the scene, speechless.

"Leave." The Swede's voice was calm and cold and dripping with venom, his glasses glinting. Hagrid didn't need to be told twice, and began Harry and his friends out his small hut, hushing them despite their protests. Once they were all gone, and presumably safe outside, Finland turned his attention back to his husband, who flashed him a worried glance before gazing back at the unmoving Dane, half-hidden under the mountain of wood.

The Dane's finger gave a slight twitch.

There was a low rumble from the debris as the nation once slowly heaved himself up, panting, hands shaking, eyes darting around the room wildly. He stood there, unstable, for a second, his hand finding his axe again. He let out an inhumane high-pitched screech, his eyes showing nothing but pure bloodlust and he hurled his now sore body at Sweden without any aim, his battle axe barely raised. The blade connected with Sweden's sword with such great force that it sent the Swede flying backwards, his glasses falling off his face. He was able to steady himself just an inch before his legs could collide with his wife's quivering body, but alas, a very blurry Denmark had treaded on his glasses.

A murderous smirk found itself on the Dane's face when he knew his opponent wouldn't be able to see him. He instantly darted to the side, easily avoiding Sweden's next attack, skidding to a halt when he was far enough for the nation not to see him. Before Finland could react, he was already flanking Sweden, his axe, now unusually heavy and moist with his sweat, held high. Finally, after all these years of war and rivalry, he, Denmark, will have the last laugh. Victory will be his, as he had hoped all those years ago when fighting Sweden. The moment was bittersweet, and Denmark found himself enjoying every bit of it.

Something connected with his ribcage. Something hard that made a loud crack before sending him flying away from Sweden, his axe finally slipping out from his hand due to the sweat and falling to the floor with a thunderous clatter. Denmark shrieked in pain, feeling blood welling up in his throat as his shoulder came in contact with yet another wall, and it hurt more than last time. Everything was too overwhelming, his heart was thumping so loud that it made him deaf to any other sound. Denmark put a hand over his throbbing head, his mouth gasping, struggling to find any last bits of oxygen to replenish his lungs. Liquid began welling up in his throat, and it splattered all over his cloak when he coughed. It was far too hot, and Denmark's breathing became more and more shallow - it was hard to get any air. He was angry, but tired. Sweat pooled into the nation's eyes, stinging the spots on his face that were burned the most by the boiling water and he was forced to shut his eyelids. The blond let out one last sigh, and finally let darkness engulf his mind.

Finland tried to stop his shaky breath as he stared at his outstretched arm, his hand balled into a fist. He didn't even remember forming the train of thought to attack his friend, but he couldn't stand around and watch Sweden get hurt. Denmark's axe was lying on the floor, dangerously close to Sweden, while Denmark himself was completely buried in the wrecked remains of Hagrid's house. Sweden narrowed his eyes and stepped towards the Dane, his sword still held high, never letting his guard down. When he reached the unmoving body of his friend, he bent down and placed a hand on the boy's cheek.

"He's knocked out." Sweden stated, his usual monotone voice taking over, giving him the impression that he had no remorse for the Dane. Turning to Finland, he asked, "Wife, are you ok?"

"I-i'm fine..." Finland muttered, still not sure whether he was lying to Sweden or to himself. Sweden, however, didn't seem to notice and gave him a curt nod.

"We need to find Harry and the others and report this to Dumbledore."

"I know." Finland's eyes trailed back to the small lump of flesh in the rubble. "What are we going to do about him?"

"Dumbledore will decide." Sweden grunted. "For now, let's find him."

"E-er, yeah..."

Finland grabbed Sweden's hand, and the Swede yanked the trembling boy up - said boy clung to his arm and didn't let go. Finland blushed when Sweden pulled him into a hug, and he felt the blond's fingers gently stroking his hair.

"It'll be fine." The taller boy murmured, though he didn't sound sure himself. "Everything will be fine."


	16. Chapter 16

**Just realized I've been spelling Mathias's name wrong the whole time. I tried to go back to change it in some of the chapters, but after reading through some old works I died from the cringe and can't continue and therefore couldn't change the spelling mistakes.**

 **Anyways, just so you know, I wrote the last chapter after reading Danish Slaughterhouse, and I _may_ have made Den a little too violent. AND NOW I READ GUTTERS AND REGRETTED EVERYTHING MY HEART HAS BEEN VIOLENTLY STOMPED ON AND I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT AND PINEAPPLES AND ALGHLKRGAKLETBHELKTHLKGLETKB**

 **wowee this fic is getting worse and worse every chapter  
**

 **I'm seriously considering discontinuing this fic because I have no motivation to continue it. This entire thing was a stupid idea to begin with tbh**

* * *

"You can't remember?"

The puffin ruffled his feathers and shook his head. "Nope."

"Damn." Iceland grumbled. He'd waited ages for Mr. Puffin to regain consciousness, and when he did, he didn't know why he was injured in the first place?

"Sorry, no can do, buddy." The puffin would've shrugged if half of its body wasn't destroyed and bandaged up.

"Maybe the attack caused some brain damage." Came Madame Pomfrey's voice from the other side of the room as she prepared potions for the other people in the hospital wing. "Or the attacker used a memory-erasing spell."

"Well, whatever it is, we need to know what happened to you, Mr. Puffin." Iceland furrowed his eyebrows. "...I'm not going to get any sleep if I don't know."

"Haw, aw, Icey cares about me!" Mr. Puffin cooed in his usual loud voice that resembled that of a mafia boss; it earned Iceland a few giggles from the other students in the hospital, and Iceland felt his face heating up.

"Puffin, stop-"

"Well, if you're fine now," Madam Pomfrey said hotly, "Then why don't you leave my Hospital Wing so I have room to take care of more students?"

"Ah-" Iceland opened his mouth to protest, but clamped it shut and nodded. Mr. Puffin let out a huff.

"I can't believe I've had to take care of a bird." Madam Pomfrey muttered under her breath when she thought that Iceland couldn't hear her - which he did. "That Hagrid, always up to something, that fellow."

"Ma'am, may I...ask you something first?" Iceland sighed as he got up to leave. Madam Pomfrey hummed, so Iceland took this as a 'yes'. "Well, I was hoping you'd know something that will help bring back Mr. Puffin's memories-"

"I don't." Madam Pomfrey cut him off, silencing him. "At least nothing that works on your puffin."

"...What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying, Emil, that none of my spells work!" Madam Pomfrey hissed, making Iceland take a step back. "Your puffin, your albino friend what's his name - none of my spells work on them. I don't know why, and I doubt you'll know too."

"Er..." Iceland decided to lie about the magical barrier in the nations' system that blocked off magic spells. "I don't know, ma'am-"

Suddenly, the door of the hospital wing burst open with a loud boom, startling everyone in the room, including Mr. Puffin, who began yelling curse words. In stormed a very shaken Finland, followed by Hermione, and behind her was the massive figure of a certain bearded giant; Harry and Ron trialed in afterwards, but Iceland's attention wasn't on them - instead, his eyes were only following Hagrid. The boy blinked, before his usual cool expression turned into a horrified one as his heart stopped. In Hagrid's arms were the small, unmoving, limp body of a blond-haired kid, his cloak drenched and torn in some places, showing scarred red skin, his entire face completely _burnt_. Mr. Puffin had stopped swearing and regarded Hagrid's presence with a blank gaze, while everyone else in the room gasped, and Madam Pomfrey let out a shrill, aghast cry.

Denmark was settled on the bed next to Iceland, who, in turn, gaped after being able to make out the details. Denmark's face - no, his entire body was charred and red and filled with ugly blisters, ruining his once flawless skin. Parts of his body were all bruised and swelled and scorched, and many, many splinters were lodged into his skin. Iceland's breath hitched when his eyes traveled to the Dane's side - his ribcage completely smashed in, all horrible and purple and bruised, with traces of red. The Icelandic boy opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out besides air. Madam Pomfrey hurried over, flailing her arms, and began examining Denmark with panicked eyes. She didn't speak a single word but had already rushed off again, her hands fumbling around various potions and spellbooks.

"I-I..." Finland sputtered, trying to find the right words to explain the situation. "I p-p-punched him, and-"

"W-what?" Iceland managed to choke out, his eyes darting over to his friend before going back to being glued on Denmark. "-the hell, Fin-"

"What happened?" Came a whisper from the doorway, cutting Iceland off. He recognized the emotionless yet soft and melodic voice that belonged to his brother. In stepped Norway, followed by Sweden, then Dumbledore's iconic beard and glasses appeared soon after. Sweden seemed to stumble as he stepped, and Iceland realized that his glasses were no longer on his face. Headmaster Dumbledore watched silently as Norway marched up to Finland.

"Explain." Norway's tone was cold and somewhat raspy. Finland shivered, but glanced around at the other students in the Hospital Wing.

"If you want some privacy, my office is always open." Dumbeldore spoke up. Norway grunted and Finland nodded feebly.

"It was the stupid Dane's fault anyway." Sweden murmured to Finland as they were ushered out of the room by Madam Pomfrey, who would rather like it if the Hospital was quiet while she attended to healing Denmark. "So don't be sorry, Wife."

...

"I'm going to _kill_ that Dane when he wakes up." Norway growled after Finland finished his story. His hands were balled into a fist on his lap, his shoulder tense and he was visibly shaking. If one looked close enough, they would see his eyes were twitching and his irises askew as he stared, rigid, into the strangely calm eyes of the Headmaster.

"I think I've killed him enough-" Finland began.

"He attacked his own family." Norway hissed, and Finland flinched. "That stupid Dane - what is he _thinking_?"

"He's finally gone crazy." Romania murmured, his eyes darting over to the phoenix that sat on Dumbledore's windowsill.

"Are you implying that he wasn't crazy before?" Iceland muttered, mostly to himself, but he knew that the other nations have heard him.

"And what do we do with him now?" Norway was on the edge of his seat, his expression unreadable as waited for Dumbledore's reply.

"We'll wait until he wakes up and try to talk some sense into him." Came the answer, and Norway's mouth twisted into a deeper frown.

"That's it?"

"What more can we do?" Iceland sighed, speaking for the first time since they entered the room.

"You know, all of this would be solved if we brought Gilbert and the G- our other friends back." Finland sighed, and Sweden frowned.

"Well..." Dumbledore sighed, running his fingers through his beard. "The school is responsible for Gilbert's disappearance, and we're searching as best as we can."

"You better be." Scotland growled. "There's already enough of us that has gone missing."

"And I assume Arthur is one of them?" Dumbledore asked bluntly.

There was a moment of silence, with Norway and Romania exchanging looks and Iceland feeling more and more uncomfortable in his chair. Finally, Scot murmured out a soft 'yes', confirming Dumbledore's suspicions that he had had for quite a while now. He had guessed this much - the lie that Scot had told him about Arthur being missing was fishy from the start. Arthur was a man of his word, and when he promised to come to Hogwarts at all costs, he would. It's not like him to cancel his plans last-minute and attend to other matters.

"I see..." The Headmaster murmured, once again stroking his beard. "Then I guess I'll have to help you find your friends."

Dumbledore was met with doubtful looks from Scot and Lukas, and Vlad's face was the only one that lit up. Out of the corner of his eye, the bearded man could see Berwald's eyes narrow and his 'wife' sqeazing his hand. Emil sat quitely on his chair, his expression unreadable as he kept avoiding Dumbledore's eyes. There was just something with this group...and the fact that they've become such good friends despite living in different countries and having a wide age gap was only one minor detail.

"T-thank you, sir." Finland finally squeaked. The others, after hesitating, also muttered thank yous, one by one. Dumbledore decided to ask one last question, before dismissing them.

"Do you have any clues about their disappearance yet?" At that inquiry, everyone in the room froze, and Lukas and Vlad looked especially nervous all of the sudden, as if something clicked in their brains. Dumbledore just sighed, taking mental note of their reactions to certain questions so he could further investigate these mysterious people.

"...Guess not."

After leaving the Headmaster's office and closing the door, Finland let out a long, shaky sigh, clinging on to Sweden as much as ever. As they began marching back to Norway's room, Iceland noticed that Norway and Romania looked _traumatized_.

"Well, it's not like we can show him that book or anything." Iceland shrugged. "And I doubt he'll be able to find anything - if Scot and Nor and Rom can't do it, he probably can't." The boy shook his head. "And I think it'd be much safer for us all if we don't tell him about us or the book, so we better study that thing and do things for ourselves."

"Y-yeah, about that..." Romania, who had been silent for a while, mumbled.

"What?"

"That book is with Den..."

There was a moment of complete and utter quietness as everyone gaped at Romania.

"...What?"

"I thought it would be a good idea to let him catch up on the reading, see if he could find something, since he'd been excluded out for so many of our activities." Norway whispered. "Rom gave it to him after dinner, and he'd hurry up to put it in his room in the Gryffindor tower before going over to Hagrid's with Harry and Ron and Hermione."

" _Excuse me_?" Iceland snarled. "So it's in there?"

Romania hung his head. "...yeah."

"Of all days." Sweden growled. "Of all days you could have given it to him-"

"I'm sorry." Norway sighed. "It was all my idea." He turned to Iceland. "Brother-"

"Oh please." Iceland grunted. "Calling me that at a time like this?"

"Look, we have to get that book back." Scotland cut in, so Iceland could only glare at the dull eyes of his brother. "So I suggest one of you try to ask someone from Gryffindor to get it-"

"Definitely not me." Finland shook his head.

"They're scared of Sve though." Romania piped up. "If he asks them-"

"They don't trust me enough." Sweden shook his head. "And even if I were to tell them to get it for me, they'd probably read it first before coming out from their tower because they're suspicious of me."

"They're suspicious of everyone in our group." Scotland rolled his eyes, lighting another cigarette.

"Well, we can't ask anyone outside of it." Finland mumbled.

"W-well," Iceland murmured as he followed the conversation, not noticing the fact that everyone had gone quiet and were all listening to him. "Hermione already saw me with that book and she knows I read it, so if I told her that Dane stole it and asked her to get it for me maybe she would."

"Then it's settled." Norway nodded, making Iceland jump when he realized they had heard him. "Ice will hang out with them - just like what the Dane and Prussia did - to gain more of their trust and get them to bring us that book - before someone reads it. Of course, he wouldn't be as troublesome as Den and Prus. And he's cautious enough, so make sure that no one reads it, Ice."

"Wait, that's way far off from what I-"

"Brilliant. And he can watch out for Harry was well, seeing that it's the reason Dumbledore accepted us into the school anyway-" Scotland nodded, interrupting Iceland.

"B-but wait, I didn't say I'd hang out with th-"

"Plus, he's already made friends with that Hermione girl, so-"

"Guys, stop!" Iceland yelped, frantically flailing his arms wildly

Norway narrowed his eyes, ignoring the boy. "But if she dares touches my little brother-"

"Fine, fine, I'm going, I'm going! But only if you please stop this conversation, right here, right now." They continued walking the halls in complete silence, with occasional sniffles from Finland and reassuring words, or rather, hums, from Sweden. Iceland noticed that Norway was looking down at the floor, his face gloomy. He looked more...sad than angry.

Of course, someone decided to break the silence.

"We'll need to erase their memories, don't we?" Romania suddenly piped up, earning questioning glances.

"Um, what?"

"Well, they saw Den materialize his battle axe, didn't they?" Romania tilted his head. Finland paled at the words, but the vampire continued, "And surely they'd question it."

"There's a limit, you do realize that, right?" Norway sighed. "We can't just keep erasing their memories forever, at some point their brains will develop the ability to fend off such spells - maybe not completely, but at least they'd be able to keep some of their memories, no matter how faint." Norway shrugged. "And that's one of the reasons why I'm completely immune to such spells."

Iceland opened his mouth to ask Nor exactly how many times he'd been struck with the spell, but Scotland spoke first. "We can still try."

"Perhaps." Norway stopped walking, and Iceland realized that they had already reached the professor's room. "I'll get on to trying the spells as soon as I can, so this is where we part, brother."

Iceland rolled his eyes. "You don't have to be so formal. And don't call me brother."

And to that, Norway simply shrugged. "You better get back to your tower, it's getting late. Take care." And he disappeared behind that mysterious wooden door, just like that.

...

Upon reaching the Hufflepuff tower, Finland headed straight to bed, waving off all the questions that the other students had - apparently the news of Matthias had already spread, even in such a short time. Sweden glared at everyone so they would leave his wife alone, but it seemed like the small boy didn't even notice. Iceland himself went to his own room, which was now much less quiet with Mr. Puffin in it. But since no-one else talked to him, it was quite comforting to have the annoying bird around. It almost felt like everything was back to normal. Almost.

"Where's that guy?"

"Huh?" Iceland turned to his puffin, who was now staring at the empty cage in the corner.

"Oh, Snowy?..." Iceland immediately felt sick when he remembered the bloody corpse of the once pure white owl, lying in the Forest, just a few feet away from an injured and unconscious Mr. Puffin. Perhaps it was for the best that she was dead - and the feeling of being watched has subsided, but Iceland couldn't quite shake it off, often waking up from nightmares of those round unblinking eyes staring into his soul. Maybe because he could still somewhat feel her presence, even when she was gone.

"I don't know." Iceland lied, picking up the cage that he had never really noticed in the corner before since Snowy was never in it. "I better take this to the owlerly or Hagrid or something, maybe this'll be of use to them."

Mr. Puffin just huffed, instantly knowing that the boy was lying. He was such an easy person to read.

"Emil, tell me."

"Tell you want?"

"What happened to that owl?"

Iceland hesitated, wondering if it would be a good idea to tell him. "She's dead."

Mr. Puffin didn't seem surprised. Instead, he just stared at Iceland with a blank face.

"And?"

"...And what?"

"Why did she die?"

Iceland shook his head. "I don't know, Puffin. They found her corpse next to you when you were knocked out. Hagrid suspects that whatever attacked you attacked her too."

For once, Mr. Puffin was quiet. He avoided Iceland's eyes, glancing out the window longingly. Finally, he spoke, his mafia-like voice softer than usual. "I'm going hunting to clear my head."

"Go hunting to fill it, we still need to know what happened to you, Puffin."

The bird chuckled, before taking off into the now darkening sky.

"...Take care, Puffin." Iceland murmured after he disappeared into the clouds. "Don't get yourself hurt."

* * *

The next few days were hell for Iceland. It wasn't that he hated Harry and Hermione and Ron - it was just that he found it hard to even talk to them. He never knew what to say whenever they chatted, so he just strutted silently behind them as they walked the halls. Perhaps it was the pressure that his totally-not-brother Norway had put on him - he didn't know when or how to ask them for that book without making it seem suspicious. The fact that he was awkwardly shoved into their group was enough - him suddenly sitting at the Gryffindor table with them and following them around when he normally didn't was definitely a fishy matter on its own.

But it seemed like they were all too busy to care about his existence. They were all worried about Matthias and what happened with him and Tino. Thankfully, when the youngest Nordic visited Nor in the hospital wing, the nation had told him that Scot had helped him erase the memories of the people present in the incident - or at least, the part where Denmark materialized his weapons.

"We've already left too much traces of dark magic here." Norway sighed as he ruffled the sleeping Dane's hair, keeping his voice low and hushed so Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear the conversation from the other side of the room (For once, they were slightly glad for the shrill yells about how all this was blasphemy and her spells _should_ work on Mathias). "I haven't even realized it until Romania pointed it out to me yesterday. Guess I was a little too caught up in writing spells."

"Spells?"

"Bless Scot and his good memory." Nor almost chuckled. "He was able to remember the basics of the spells in that book. We're trying to write new spells, with the help of Nicolas Flamel's old ones. It's a bit hard though. Normal simple spells don't work on our kind, as you know."

"Oh..." Iceland went quiet. Nor stared at him, almost suspiciously.

"Brother?"

"What?"

"You don't..." Norway hesitated. "You don't feel any particularly...strange, do you?"

"Huh?" Iceland gave him an exasperated look. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Norway muttered, almost too quickly. Then, to himself, he whispered, "It was foolish to ask, you wouldn't have noticed it anyway. Or at least not when it was happening with you, but I'm sure by now with Fin and Sve and Den..." He stopped and shook his head.

Iceland scratched his head. "Whatever is going on, Nor, you could tell me."

"Thanks. Maybe later." Norway's eyes drifted over to Denmark. "Harry and Ron and Hermione aren't acting strange either?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"I said later." Norway breathed, almost too forcefully. His eyes were fixed on Denmark. "I'll tell you both when he wakes up, to save time."

"Tell us what?" Iceland curiously leaned in closer to the man.

"I think..." Norway trailed off, before inhaling. "Later, brother."

"Nor, you're acting weird again."

"That's the entire point, Ice. That's why I asked you if you noticed anything strange."

"What?"

"You know what? Let's just stop this conversation, right here, right now." The nation gave Iceland a rare bemused expression while he slowly began to realize where those words came from. He sniffed from the lack of a good comeback.

"Now, as much as I want to continue talking to you, dear brother, I must get back to work." Norway gestured to the pile of nation-related paperwork on the table next to Denmark's bed. "It's bad enough that I'm missing assistant professor work stuff - I can't just leave these either."

"Isn't it dangerous?" Iceland asked, eyeing the papers. "To do it here, where everyone can see them?"

"Ah." Norway's eyes glittered and his mouth curled up into a thin smile. "It's all in Norwegian, and the wizards here aren't advanced enough for Google translate."

"Ha." Iceland gave a dry, forced laugh. "Well, I'll be going, Nor. Can't miss my next class"

Norway looked slightly dejected, even though he was the one to dismiss Iceland first. "Take care, brother dearest."

"Don't call me that."

...

"Mathias is still unconscious." Iceland had informed Harry, Ron, and Hermione after visiting Norway again. _And Madam Pomfrey isn't able to heal him_ , he added silently to himself.

"Well, he heals like a monster, doesn't he?" Ron scratched his head. "And surely he'd be fine after a while."

"I'm more concerned about his mental health rather than his physical health." Hermione muttered, with Harry nodding in agreement.

"We should go see him after Potions!" Ron declared. "And if he's awake, we should...er, talk to him, I guess. Try to, like, not make him go insane again."

"I doubt it'll work." Iceland rolled his eyes, but nevertheless the others still wanted to see what is going on with the blond. He couldn't figure out if it was curiosity, pity, or just carefully disguised spite. After Denmark's attempt to kill Hagrid and his own family, Iceland had noticed that the students were becoming more and more wary of them. The news had spread quite fast, no surprise, and soon he could often see people shooting him and Finland and Sweden analytical looks, some with pure disgust, and it was hard to tell whether they just hated Denmark or their group as a whole.

"Bah!" Mr. Puffin, who was now back in action, had yelled at passerby whenever they would glare at Iceland. "Stop staring at him and mind your own business! Unless you're staring at me, which is fine, because I am quite cute, eh, Ice?"

Iceland just shook his head and told him to be quiet as he entered the Potions classroom with Harry, already feeling the daggers that shot out from Snape's venomous eyes. He followed Harry to his seat, hearing Ron muttering about how he was really glad that he didn't have to spend Potions with the Slytherins that day.

They spent the next hour throwing ingredients together into a boiling cauldron - dragonfly thorax, armotentia, bat wings and beetle eyes, flitterbloom and flitterby amongst other things - ingredients so bizarre and alien to Iceland that it made his stomach turn, and he wished that he was back at him, in the 'muggle' world, living life happily with his Nordic family without having to worry about mysterious dark lords and missing nations. But alas, he pushed through the class, barely interacting with his partner - a Hufflepuff boy whom he rarely speaks to.

"Assistant!" He could hear Snape call out, only to slap himself on the face when he turned to the spot that Norway used to stand while helping in his class. Iceland almost snorted. Almost.

"Hey." He heard a whisper from Hermione, who had inched closer to him. He glanced at his partner, who just gave him a tired look and nodded his head. Iceland then turned to Hermione, who asked, almost worriedly, "Where's Professor Bondevik? He seemed to be absent on his classes lately." She was rudely interrupted.

"Yeah, and McGonagall made a fool of herself today too, didn't she, when she called out to him and he wasn't there." Ron chuckled, and Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes.

"You three!" Snape barked from the front of the classroom, making them immediately turn back to their own work. Snape took ten points from them each anyway, and he could almost hear the Gryffindors' silent groans, while the Hufflepuffs just sighed, pitying them and understanding completely.

The class continued without further complications, and after an excruciating hour they were finally dismissed by a hateful-looking Snape, whose eyes followed Harry all the way out of the classroom - no-one else noticed but Iceland, and when he pointed it out to the boy, Harry just sighed and said it was normal. They headed straight to the hospital wing, Iceland with Mr. Puffin nestled (peacefully, for once) in his arms, while Hermione looked quite exhausted and...was that worry he saw in her drained, almost Norway-like dull eyes?

Upon reaching the hospital, Iceland spotted Madam Pomfrey, whose hair was messy and was pulling out all her books from her shelves, stressed out about something. The practically motionless heap that was Denmark lay on the bed nearest to the door, still battered and bruised, but otherwise healing, though slower than it normally took a nation to heal. Next to him was what Iceland recognized as Norway - sitting on a chair with the rest of his body slumped over on Denmark's bed - he was sleeping. The nation's long, slender fingers were loosely interwind with Denmark's own, slightly twitching occasionally.

Bah!" The youngest Nordic heard Madam Pomfrey yell, before she rushed to Harry and Hermione and Ron, and, well, Iceland, and began rambling about how she'd been trying and trying for days and days and there was not a single spell nor potion that worked on Mathias and even Professor Bondevik couldn't help and he's been staying here the entire time since Mathias had been here and the professor was always staring at her as if expecting her to heal his student or brother or whatever he was to him and she was going crazy-

All her frantic words made Harry back away, but they all seemed to blur and fade away in Iceland's mind as his gaze wandered over to Norway - his chest slowly rising and falling, his body stirring ever so often as he'd nuzzle himself deeper into Denmark's blanket or shift in his chair so he'd get closer to the bed. He'd lifted his head once and groggily greeted his brother before falling back into his slumber, his mouth twitching as if having a hard time to choose whether to smile or frown. He looked so peaceful and relaxed - something that Iceland seldom saw nowadays, what's with his country's paperwork and the missing nations and the magic and whatnot.

Iceland's thoughts were abruptly cut off when Madam Pomfrey began shooing him and his kind-of-but-not-really friends out the door, saying that if they had no business in the hospital wing then they shouldn't be there because they were interrupting her work. Hermione began to protest that they had come here to see Mathias, but Madam Pomfrey silenced her, telling her that he needed sleep and if they came back in a few days just to check on him it would be fine, but they weren't allowed to try to wake him up.

"Well, that was a bummer." Ron huffed when they were outside the room. Iceland was, strangely, slightly disappointed that he didn't get to talk to Nor, but immediately shook the thoughts out of his head.

They didn't approach the hospital wing or talk about Denmark again for the next couple of days.

...

Other than that, Harry and Ron and Hermione were always whispering to each other in a hushed tone about some...egg. Iceland was never good at speaking, but he definitely knew how to listen - even with Mr. Puffin perched on his shoulder constantly shouting rude comments about whatever Harry was talking about or just at people passing by. Iceland was able to ignore that mafia-like screaming voice and focus on the conversation that was going on. Apparently that giant guy Hagrid was illegally hiding a dragon egg in his hut, and Iceland, though skeptical, knowing what dragons could do (because of his best and only friends, the books), was still very curious.

The boy's heart leapt when a letter came from Hagrid one morning, with two simple words: 'it's hatching'. Iceland hadn't really seen a dragon before; Norway had done his best to keep him out of the 'dangerous magic stuff' - at least until he attended the school. So Iceland would be lying if he said he wasn't quite excited to have first-class seats in watching this creature hatch - a creature that he never even knew existed before a few months ago.

"Let's skip Herbology and go straight to the hut." Ron suggested after reading the letter. Hermione looked furious. After some back and forth bickering, Ron pointed out that they'll probably never have another chance to see a dragon hatching - which surprised Iceland. Because of the fact that all existing conversation between the redhead and Romania were all about dragons, one would think he'd get to see them quite a bit.

"We'll get in trouble! We can't skip lessons like this! Not to mention that it'd be pretty messy if Hagrid got caught-"

Iceland put a hand on her shoulder without thinking. She turned around and glared at him, and it took all of the courage he could muster to remain calm and point at Malfoy - who had been staring at them for quite a while now, no doubt hearing everything, seeing that he was only standing a few metres away. Iceland saw Harry's eyes narrow at the blond - and he, too, didn't like the look that boy had on his face. But before anyone of them could say anything, Malfoy had already slipped away, a hideous smirk playing on his lips.

Frustrated, Iceland began dragging Harry along, heading to Herbology, with Ron and Hermione kept arguing despite them knowing the dangers of doing so in freaking public. Iceland sighed, deciding that he had had enough of it.

"Shut up, both of you." He hissed, seeing the curious eyes of the other students following their group. Hermione and Ron hesitated, then reluctantly backed away from each other, turning their faces away. Iceland grumbled. Their arguments were just as stupid and pointless as the ones Denmark and Norway had - and everything about it could be resolved with a bit of thinking and civilized talking. Vikings were not that civilized so Denmark had often resorted to flipping tables.

"How about we go during morning break?" Harry suggested. Ron huffed, and Hermione quietly agreed, while Iceland was just glad the quibble was over.

The second the bell sounded, Harry and Iceland had already bolted out the classroom door, with Ron stumbling behind, when Hermione was still packing her things. Iceland could hear her exasperated sighs as she stuffed her books and quills into her bag and hurried after the boys, muttering to herself about how immature they were. Iceland, being the fastest runner, reached Hagrid's hut at the edge of the forest first, followed by Harry. Hermione reached third, while Ron lumbered behind, huffing and wheezing. Hermoine rolled her eyes, and Harry tried to suppress his giggle. Irritated and dying to see the dragon, Iceland knocked on the door. It was answered by Hagrid, who ushered them inside in a hushed voice.

The second the nation stepped inside, he had already noticed how unbearably hot it is. The giant must have enhanced the walls when he was rebuilding his house, insulating it so it could keep more heat in. A giant black round object sat on Hagrid's brand-new table, and one look at it told Iceland that it was obviously the egg, slightly shaking and rattling and clicking. There were already cracks in it, and the boy couldn't help but be slightly disappointed that he had missed it first cracking. But none of it mattered now, he told himself as he stared apprehensively at the once smooth curved surface in complete awe, all the annoyance and salt that had been piling up in his head leaving at once. They returned when everyone else in the room began to crowd around him - it was already way too hot in there and them being around made everything even worse and it was hard to breathe and-

Another crack stopped his train of thought, and Hermione's and Ron's murmurings were silenced at once. One more crack and a bit more clicking were heard, making Iceland hold his breath, before a sudden scraping and an especially loud crack sounded all at once. Plop - the shell had completely come off, revealing glinting orange eyes on a small, black, crumpled slimy mess, its snout and wings barely distinguishable from the rest of its body. Iceland shivered when gleaming sparks of what was probably fire shot out of its mouth when it sneezed. This wasn't like him at all - his house is surrounded by lava, for goodness' sake! It was the shimmering sharp teeth in the dragon's mouth that made him uneasy. Yes, that's it. It had to be.

"Hagrid. How fast does a Norwegian Ridgeback grow?" Hermione stared at the dragon, concern lacing her voice. Iceland, knowing the answer to the question (thanks, Nor) opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a short yelp from Hagrid. The giant leapt to his feet and dashed to the window and opened a bit of the curtain to look out. Just when everyone was beginning to question his sanity, he turned around.

"Someone. A student. He was looking through the gap in the curtains, and he's runnin' up the school."

Iceland went frigid, and Harry wasted no time sprinting to the window, his eyes widening as he put his hand up to cover his mouth.

"Malfoy," the Gryffindor boy breathed, his quivering voice muffled by his hand. "Has seen the dragon."

"Well shit-"

...

"Hagrid, you need to let him go!" Hermione insisted, earning a frown from the stubborn giant.

"I can't - he's too young, he'll die!" Said giant protested gesturing to the creature who was now three times as big as the last time Harry had seen it. The dragon, too, huffed in response, sending sparks out its nostrils, almost as if it understood what was going on.

"I've decided to call him Norbert, by the way." Hagrid mentioned, turning to the animal. "Come here, Norbert! See, he knows me. Norbert! Come to mommy!"

"He says you're annoying." Professor Bondevik shrugged as-a-matter-of-factly, making Hagrid pout. Emil had brought the Norwegian,along with Vlad, to the hut with him that day, since apparently they're experts. Bondevik had been petting and whispering to the dragon for about half an hour now, and Harry is pretty sure the most serious person in Emil's strange group of friends had finally gone bonkers. Harry's mind traveled back to Mathias, but he quickly shook the thoughts out of his head, mostly because if he didn't he'd be kept awake all night again. But for no reason in particular, he just tried to rack his memories of what happened during the battle. He remembered being there and watching it happened, but the details of the actual fighting were fuzzy. Harry's train of thought was cut off when Ron whispered into his ear about Hagrid losing his marbles.

"Hagrid." Emil piped up. "Give it a fortnight and the dragon will be bigger than your hut.

"And not to mention Malfoy could go tell Dumbledore any moment now." Harry added, his concerns shifting from Mathias to the image of the blond boy, running back up to the castle in a hurry after peeking through the gap in the curtains. Thinking about the mysterious smirk the blond boy had on his face these past few days sent chills down Harry's spine. Malfoy definitely knew about the dragon, and, knowing him, who probably already has tons of blackmail material, he will use the dragon against them and Hagrid.

Hagrid bit his lip - or what seemed like biting his lip under that massive beard. "I know that I can't keep him forever, but I can't just dump him out! How will he survive? What will he do? Where would he go? What if he gets killed?"

Vlad suddenly turned to Ron. "Charlie."

"Um, I think you're mistaken." Ron blinked, gesturing to his Ron shirt, which was almost as bad as Ron himself. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No, I mean, yes, I know you're Ron, but I mean Charlie." Vlad was more fidgety and nervous than usual. "Charlie. In my hou- country - er, Romania, that is, er, he works with dragons, remember? He can take Norbert in, take care of him until he's old enough, and set him free back to the wild."

"Brilliant!" Ron grinned, and Hagrid, too, lit up and nodded.

"Alrighty then! We can send him an owl asking him about it!" Hagrid clapped his hands, and Hermione sighed with relief. Bondevik turned back to Norbert and whispered something to the dragon, earning another huff that sent fire spurting out its nostrils.

"He said he's fine with it." Bondevik informed, nodding.

"Um, that's...great." Harry didn't know if this guy was for real or not, but he seemed to be genuinely talking to the dragon. Apparently Emil noticed Harry's discomfort, and shot him a glance that said, 'why are you still surprised?'

"Oh?" Bondevik leaned closer to the dragon, who was grunting and groaning and occasionally letting out soft growls. "By the way, Hagrid, he says that he's hungry and that you're a terrible mom."

Hagrid's cheerful smile immediately dropped from his face. Emil facepalmed.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry was slumped in a chair by a window in the common room, eyes drooping, lulled by the slow pitter-patter of rain on the window. There was no other sound from the dark, sleeping dorms that were only lit dimly by the small flames crackling in the fireplace. Next to him, Hermoine was focused on a book, her shoulders tense and her eyes darting around the page at lightning speed, while her hand furiously scribbled notes on parchment. Harry sighed, seeing how overdramatic Hermione sometimes was with exams.

Loud chimes came from the clock on the wall, disrupting the peace. Shortly after, the portrait door on the other side of the room swung open and Harr's invisibility cloak dropped to the ground, revealing a worried Vlad and a very disgruntled Ron. He groaned, holding up his hand - weak, limp, and wrapped in a handkerchief that was stained red.

"Norbert bit me when I tried to feed it!" The boy wrinkled his nose. "Ungrateful jerk."

"You should have that checked." A rare frown crept up Vlad's face. "I don't know about Norbert, but some Norwegian Ridgebacks develop poison in their teeth." As if to demonstrate, the man pointed to his own sharp canines, before blinking and quickly covering his mouth. Hermione gave him a strange look, and the Romanian just let out a nervous giggle. He was saved by Ron, who took their attention when he complained about not being able to hold a quill for weeks.

"That thing is vicious, but Hagrid treats it like royalty, and if you haven't met it then you'd think it's a cute fluffy kitten." Ron poked his hand. "I can't feel it, fuck." Harry had to put a hand on his mouth to keep himself gagging from the overpowering metallic smell of blood.

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "Vlad, the letter?"

"Oh, right." The man quickly ruffled through his cloak, pulling out a frail piece of parchment that was wrinkled and torn in some places.

"It got a bit, er, wet, on the journey." He scratched the back of his head, which, Harry noticed, was the same way Mathias did. Harry gulped, feeling an uneasy sensation engulf him as he searched his mind for hints on what happened to the bloke, but couldn't remember anything.

Vlad carefully opened the letter, hissing when another piece of the wet parchment fell apart. The ink had run and the words were blurred, but it was still possible to understand it.

 _Dear Vlad,_

 _How are you? Having fun in Hogwarts? I hope my baby brother Ron isn't causing much trouble, say hi to him for me, will you?_

Vlad snorted at the word 'baby', earning himself a jab in the rib from Ron.

 _I'll be glad to take in the Norwegian Ridgeback, we don't get much of them around here and they are interesting to study. Problem is, it's illegal to keep one so you can't be seen with one. You can send him over with some friends who are coming to visit me, so can you meet up with them at the top of the highest tower by midnight on Saturday? That way we can take it away while it's still dark._

 _Please write back as soon as possible. And make sure Ron eats properly._

 _Love, Charlie._

"Is that doable?" Hermione sent Harry a questioning glance, and he shrugged.

"Is what doable, making Ron eat or getting the dragon to the tower?"

"The dragon, genius, I was talking about the fucking dragon." Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron crossed his arms, pink dusting his cheeks.

"We have the Invisibility Cloak. It's big enough to cover two of us and Norbert, I think."

Vlad nodded. "Any objections?"

There was silence - at the point, everyone was willing to do anything to get rid of Norbert - and Malfoy. Vlad stared at them sternly. "Then you figure out who's going to do it - I'll tag along too, but I won't be using the cloak, seeing how hard it was for me to fit in with Ron, even without Norbert. I'll get in much less trouble than you guys if I get caught anyway." His expression returned to the normal cheerful one and he winked. "I'll pop in the Hufflepuff common room and tell Emil about this now, you kids go to sleep."

And before anyone could do anything, he had vanished.

...

"Shitshitshitshitshit-"

"iT'S BEcOMinG gREEn!"

Harry cursed under his breath, and behind him Hermione paced the room, screeching like an owl and waving her hands in the air frantically. Ron's hand had swollen, and was getting bigger by the minute. It seemed that Norbert did have poison after all. Ron stared at the hand, rocking back and forth in his chair whimpering and muttering prayers under his breathe. Harry placed a hand over his mouth and tried not to freak out.

"I'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadie-"

"N-no you're not, Ron. H-hold on!" Harry stammered, desperately pulling bandages over Ron's hand. "W-we're going to Madam P-pomf-"

"bUT wHAt If sHe ReCognIzeS a drAGon'S bITE?" Hermione shrieked, making Ron fall off the chair.

"wE HAVE NO CHOICE!"

Meanwhile Ron had begun sobbing in a pool of his own tears on the floor, not even making an effort to get up. He began rolling around on the ground as Hermione and Harry continued to scream their lungs off at each other.

"UGH, fINE!" Hermione threw her hands in the air. "dO WhaT yOU wANT!" Harry screamed back at her and began dragging an emotionally unstable Ron to the Hospital Wing.

They couldn't focus on classes at all that day, and didn't even bother to meet up with Emil like they used to. At the end of the day, Harry and Hermione hurried over to the Hospital Wing, finding Emil and Vlad on the way and bringing the man there with them. Vlad, in turn, grabbed Emil's hand and dragged the boy along too, much to his dismay. His pet puffin sThe burst into the Hospital Wing, startling everyone in it, and making Lukas drop his coffee.

"Ron, Ron! Are you ok?" Hermione marched up to the cot that held the redheaded boy, who had his head down and was frowning.

"I told Madam Pomfrey that it was a dog but she didn't believe me." Ron whispered as Harry neared the bed. "And to make things worse, Malfoy came in here today to mock me." He sighed. "And I don't think I have the energy to rant about him right now."

"...And Madam Pomfrey let him come in to mock you?" Vlad raised an eyebrow. Ron shook his head.

"He told her that he was gonna borrow my books so she let him in. And he kept threatening to tell her what really bit me."

"Damn, can I, like, kill that kid?" Mr. Puffin grumbled. He was promptly smacked on the head by Emil.

"Look, Ron, it'll be all over by midnight on Saturday, ok?" Harry tried to calm his friend down, but instead the redhead immediately shot up from his bed.

"Midnight on Saturday! Oh no, ohnoohnoohnoohnononononononono!" He sat back down and began chewing on his nails - the ones on his good hand. "The letter - from Charlie, it was in the book that Malfoy took! He's gonna find out!"

Before anyone had a chance to answer, the felt the unsettling presence of a certain Norwegian professor behind them. They slowly turned their heads up to look at him, and was met with a hard, murderous glare.

"...You made me drop my coffee."

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder - it was Emil. He was frowning.

"Run."

...

Now hobbling towards Hagrid's hut, gasping for breath and ignoring the aching in his feet, Harry sighed. "We can't change the plan now, can we? It's much too late to send Charlie another owl."

"We still have the invisibility cloak. Malfoy doesn't know about that yet." Hermione pointed out. Emil shrugged.

"Plus, this is the only chance we have at getting rid of that dragon, isn't it?" He wrinkled his nose - the dragon was harder to take care of and overall worse than he thought it would be.

They found Hagrid's dog Fang sitting outside, on the grass, looking quite miffed. His tail was bandaged up, and the kids could only guess what happened to it. Just then, Hagrid's window opened to reveal a coughing giant.

"Norbert's in a tricky stage right now, can't come in, sorry." He panted, choking a bit on the smoke that flooded out. Hermione gagged.

"Nothing we can't handle of course, eh, Hagrid?" Came Vlad's voice, though it was impossible to see him through all the smog.

"Of course, of course." Hagrid snorted, then turned back to Harry. "Yer can come back another time-"

"OW!"

"Vlad, are you ok?"

"Yes, yes, everything's fine." Said Vlad's slightly shaky voice. "Better go now, kids, it's not a good idea to stay. Oh, and say hello to Lukas for me if you pass him, why don't you?"

"...We will..." Harry whistled nervously. Hagrid opened his mouth to say something, but was silenced by another yell from Vlad, and was forced to close the door. The windows rattled, and so did the floor, and the yelps of two grown men were almost comical. Almost. Emil sighed and shook his head.

"Saturday couldn't come fast enough...

* * *

Denmark woke up to a bright, blinding light. He squinted, feeling the air sting his eyes, as silhouettes of white, blurry shapes began to form before him, dots and spots flickering and dancing all around, making him dazed and confused. He blinked, several times, feeling his vision slowly but surely come back to him; but the spots were still there, hopping around his half-closed eyes. The nation felt something rise up his throat, and he let out a series of dry coughs that scratched and burned through his windpipe. There was a strange pop in his ears, and he slowly began hearing muffled, distant voices. He flinched when something brushed against his cheek – something soft and cool that trailed across his jawline and cheekbones before resting in his forehead. A hand. He sluggishly turned his head to one side, blinking, trying to make sense of what was going on, and the noises he heard were getting gradually louder and clearer. They were whispers, soft, gentle whispers, from what looked like a large blob in front of his eyes. He blinked again, squinted against the bright light, feeling his face painfully sting once he did so.

"-ias."

Denmark inwardly sighed with relief when the voices got stronger, though the fuzziness was still there. They were saying something – to him. He strained his ears, trying to hear the words when the voices spoke again.

"-thias."

His cloudy vision was able to make out the blob in front of him – a face, a human face. Everything was foggy, but Denmark was able to identify a mouth and a nose and familiar blue eyes – dim with grim and worry, they were the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen.

"Mathias."

"N-norge-" Denmark croaked, and immediately regretted it. He landed himself in a violent fit of coughs that stung his throat and scalded his chest, taking all the breath from his lungs. To make it worse, every time he'd cough, he'd shake a bit, and every single small movement he made his skin would prickle and burn. He felt the same hands travel back to his cheek, resting there.

"Don't talk." Came the male's cold yet soothing voice, smooth as silk. It was a mixture of many different emotions Denmark can't quite sense, his expression almost unreadable. He wasn't able to understand those eyes, those striking blue orbs that stared at him as a hand ruffled his dirty, matted hair. Those eyes that held a mixture of shock, disappointment, relief, fury, and sadness, all rolled into one. Those betrayed eyes that almost stabbed him in the heart.

He swallowed, feeling a huge lump in his throat, when suddenly, memories rushed into his mind. Visions of himself, attacking Tino, going completely berserk, escaping the dark depths of his mind. And the nation now understood why Norge was looking at him like that. Norge was angry. At him. At Denmark. Because he had lost his mind and had done something terribly, terribly wrong.

"N-norge…"

"I _said_ don't talk, idiot." Norway whispered, a little more forcefully. He regarded Denmark with a look that was far too kind.

"I did something horrible, didn't I?"

There was silence. Norway closed his eyes, his long, slender fingers brushing Denmark's messy hair from his face. Finally, he opened them again, his mouth almost frowning.

"Tino's fine. Berwald's fine. I rebuilt Hagrid's hut. We're going to find America and Prussia soon, so don't worry. Brother's got Harry's protection covered. Just stay here until you completely heal."

Denmark couldn't find the right words to say. Why was Nor…

"Aren't you angry?"

Norway's eyes hardened before he looked away. His next words were stoic and calm. "I'm outraged, Den."

"Then why…"

"Because it's against school rules for me to punch you." He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"…Oh…"

"And because I understand why you acted the way you did."

Denmark lifted his head, hissing to himself when he heard a small crack in his neck. He plopped his head back down to the pillow, and looked at Norway warily.

"I told Ice I'll explain it to him too, when you wake up." Norway murmured. "I'll go get him... Oh, but we'll have to talk in my room, and you still haven't recovered, so I'd have to levitate you the whole way..." Norway wrinkled his nose. "Damn, that boiling water that Hagrid threw has done its number on you."

"Ah." Denmark chuckled bitterly. "I deserved it."

Norway didn't say anything. Instead, he got up to leave, revealing to Denmark a large stack of paperwork behind him and a blanket on the chair next to the bed. Instantly, Denmark's throat felt dry.

"Nor."

"Hm?"

"Did you…stay here the entire time I was asleep?"

Norway went silent as he picked up his cloak from the foot of Denmark's bed.

"Knocked out cold, to be exact. By one single punch."

"Thank you." Denmark whispered, ignoring that last retort. Norway huffed.

"Go to sleep, Den."

Denmark closed his eyes, and was suddenly engulfed by a magical force that made his skin tingle. His body became lighter, and soon he was completely lifted off the bed.

"Damn, you're heavy." Norway groaned. "God, people are going to look at me weird. Mind if I also made you invisible? It'd take more magic so I may or may not drop you on the way."

Denmark chuckled. "Go ahead."

"Alright." And the Dane felt himself being moved, from his original location above the way. And slowly, inch by inch, with great effort, Norway levitated him out the hospital wing, passing a sleeping Madam Pomfrey who was hidden behind a mountain of medical books.

* * *

It was hard to admit it, but Iceland was starting to miss the German Sparkle Parties that Prussia threw on Fridays.

It had been strangely quiet without the albino around and with Denmark still in the hospital wing, being a vegetable. Nor's investigation on strange magical occurrences around the school and Romania's late-night searches around the school were pointless - both sides came back with nothing each day. Even Scotland couldn't sense where Prussia was in his land - and, according to Nor, that would mean that Prussia is either out of the country, or the (possibly dark) magic around him was so strong it disrupted Scotland's senses. Scotland insisted that Prussia was still around, perhaps even within school grounds - it was just hard to pinpoint his exact location.

Finland and Sweden had tried helping Romania with his searches, but they both grew tired very quickly, for they weren't vampires like Romania was. So they decided to help look for Prussia in any way they could, around the school, maybe look around for any suspicious persons. Even Romania was getting tired, and Iceland just didn't see him around in the day anymore - he was probably sleeping somewhere, resting for a long night of sneaking around. He had reported unicorn killings in the Forbidden Forest - but whoever did it was gone before the vampire was able to get to it. Nor had told him to keep his eyes and ears open for more unicorn corpses - there might be someone, or something dangerous lurking around the school if they were willing to kill these creatures, for whatever twisted reason.

And there was Iceland, stuck with a job as simple as 'keeping Harry Potter alive' and 'getting that stupid Dane's book from the Gryffindor dorm' - which he did, by the way, by asking politely; it was easier than he thought, and Neville had brought it back to him instantly, so he had hoped that the boy hadn't opened it up and read it. So far the useless thing had done nothing except hinting that someone out there knew about the nations' existence and all the spells in there were things that Norway already knew, while the rest of everything else was burnt. Scotland was working on a particularly hard task of making a whole new spell - one that can track down nations. So far? Nothing.

No-one other than the nations remembered the Denmark incident - or, at least, Iceland hoped no one did. When asked, he's panic and end up making some BS story about how Denmark decided to climb one of the towers of the school and fell down. Not the best cover story, but he had already blurted it out, and the news spread. Luckily, at this point, people just assumed that this was a normal thing that Denmark always did, and ate it all up. And when inquired about Prussia...well, the 'special training with Professor Bondvik' thing was believable enough, if not occasionally questioned by a few teachers, especially Snape and McGonagall.

"Snape had been really creepy these past few days, have you noticed?" Harry remarked that particular Friday, during dinnertime. "I see him every corner I turn to, surely you guys do too?"

"It's almost as if he's following us." Hermione nodded. "Weird."

"Probably just Snape being Snape?" Ron shrugged. "That old bloke has always been creepy."

"Yeah, but he's, like, especially creepy now?" Harry wrinkled his nose. Iceland shrugged.

"Maybe, but-"

"Ice- Emil!" It was Romania, huffing and puffin like he had just run a marathon, across the Great Hall and towards the Gryffindor Table. "Nor- Lukas needs to see you. Now."

"What does he want this time?" Iceland grumbled as Romania grabbed him by the shirt, and, without another word, dragged him away from the confused prying eyes of the students around them.

"The hell, Nor?" Only after they had entered Norway's bedroom and closed the door did Iceland notice the familiar figure with spiky blond hair and dim, blue eyes on the bed. "Denmark?"

"Yup." Den smiled an obviously forced smile. "Didja miss me?"

"No." Came Iceland's instant reply.

"Ouch." Denmark pouted childishly. "Nor, what have you raised this kid to become?"

"A better person than you, obviously." Norway rolled his eyes. "Anyways - I didn't call Iceland here to mock Denmark, as much as I want to. Have a seat, brother."

"Don't call me that."

Ignoring that last comment, Nor took a sip from his mug. "Anyways, Brother, do you remember when we talked that time, when I said I would tell you something when Denmark woke up?"

"...Yeah?" Iceland curiously leaned forward. "What is it?"

"The reason Denmark attacked Finland the other day." Norway's eyes hardened. "Do you know why?"

"Not really, no." Said Denmark and Iceland simultaneously. Everyone in the room just stared at Denmark.

"Well, the thing is. It's a bit hard to explain, but...well, when someone is exposed to ancient dark magic for a long time, especially dark magic that alters your mind, and then suddenly there's some normal magic, it kinda makes you a bit..." Norway twirled his finger around next to his head.

"...Wait, what."

Norway leaned in closer. "Wonder why England acts the way he does, with constant mood shifts and it almost seems that he has multiple personalities, and whatever he acts like, he will still feel like England?"

"Wait, then what about you-"

"Wonder why Nor has no personality at all? It has different affects on everyone, I think." Romania shrugged. "And I think...since Nor's always using dark magic at home, coming to this school where they don't use dark magic may have erm, affected some of you." The vampire scratched his head. "And memory-erasing spells have been used so many times...Hey, have you noticed how Harry has as much personality as a potato?"

"Off topic, Romania, off topic." Norway grumbled. "The point is, I can't entirely blame Denmark for what happened, because it's probably just the dark magic messing up his mind after he gets exposed to normal magic."

"What about me?" Iceland exclaimed. "And Romania? And Finland, and Sweden?"

"Sweden's mind haven't changed much, but his physical body is. It's like he just doesn't have that much energy anymore."

"And Finland?"

"Finland tried to kill a kid, Brother. Think about it."

"And Romania?"

"I haven't used normal magic." Romania shrugged. "I've always been practicing dark magic, and I'm not changing that."

"...And me?"

Norway peered at him for a while. "You are acting strange lately, but I just can't put my finger on it..." He tapped his chin. "Hey, have you felt throbbing headaches as of lately?"

"Great." Iceland threw his hands in the air. "Not only do we have missing nations, not only do we have Voldemort running around, we now have to deal with, what, metal disorders?"

"More like frequent mood changes, possibly insanity and hallucinations." Norway shrugged.

"So yeah, metal disorders?" Denmark snorted.

"Why are you telling us this now?" Iceland slammed his hands on the table. "Why not, oh, you know, WHEN WE FIRST AGREED TO COME HERE-"

"Calm down." Norway sighed. "I didn't want you guys to worry. And seeing how excited Denmark was about coming here..."

"Aww, Nor, you did all this for me?" Denmark cooed. Norway narrowed his eyes at him.

"You know, I should've just kept you unconscious."

* * *

The ancient wooden door squeaked on its hinges, threatening to topple down onto the cramped, dusty, mildew-covered room in any minute. It creaked open, ever so slowly, revealing the menacing twisted face behind it, shadowed by the light that shone in. That familiar face that showed yellow teeth when it smiled, those same blue eyes that twitched ever so slightly as the figured talked. The figure reached out a hand - long, bony fingers with unnatural pale skin - skin just like Prussia's and Romania's - dry and cold. The hand roughly grabbed Prussia tightly by the wrist, the dirty long nails digging into his flesh. The albino tried to yelp, but all that came out was a low, raspy grunt, due to his dehydration - and even then, his throat hurt whenever he moved it or tried to swallow. Professor Quirrel - what Prussia believed was the _rea_ l Professor Quirrell, whit his confident smirk and sadistic grin, harshly yanked the boy to his feet. His legs stung with a dull aching pain and his muscles tightened, but he mustered all of his remaining energy and forced himself to stand, terrified of what Quirrell would do to him if he didn't comply.

Quirrell forcibly dragged him out the dark, foul-smelling closet out to what he assumed was the professor's own room. Moonlight shone dimly through the curtains, casting long shadows of the two figures in the room. Quirrell began muttering a spell under his breath - one that Prussia couldn't recognize. Suddenly, the albino's throat instantly felt tight, and he choked, coughing violently. Quirrell didn't seem to care, and began dragging Prussia out his door. The nation, devoid of any strength, simply let the professor do so.

They scurried through the corridors, hiding behind corners and slipping through open doors, unseen by paintings and ghosts. Every once in a while, Quirrell would take a gulp of something from his flask, and the smell screamed unicorn blood - a smell that made Prussia feel nauseous. His trembling legs threatened to give way any minute - they were short, and he had to run to catch up with Quirrell's long strides, and to add to that, they stung. Thanks to the spell, the albino couldn't scream for help, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps, his lungs collapsing with every exhale. But as much as his throat itched, he couldn't cough, otherwise he'd lose all the air in his body he had left. His head was spinning, his vision coming and going in short periods, blacking for seconds after every blink. The world around him shook and swayed and seemed to tumble down at every step.

He didn't know how long it had taken them to get to their destination, or how they got there, but when they did, Quirrell roughly pushed him forwards. Prussia's vision was still light and foggy, but his heart stopped when he made out bits of slick golden hair. He began choking on nothing, staring at the figure that slowly became clearer before him. He leant in closer, suddenly forgetting about the sharp stings up his legs and the pounding headache. He studied the soft blue eyes and the confident smile on the lips of the person, the bulging muscles that shown through the dark green military uniform. He gaped, and the dark room and Quirrell and everything else around him seemed to melt.

He reached out a quivering hand, only to be stopped by a smooth, hard solid surface. He tried again, with the other hand, and was met with the same thing. Instantly, memories of the Berlin Wall rushed into his head, and he gulped, his breathing becoming faster and faster. West still smiled at him from the other side of the barrier, a cold bottle of beer in his hand. The blond's arms were spread wide, as if waiting for a hug, and his lips moved - though Prussia couldn't hear it, he was able to understand the 'I love you'.

Tears began rolling freely down the albino's cheek, his mind flooding with memories of laughing and jokes and loving embraces that they shared. He began desperately clawing on the barrier that separated them, silently screaming in hopeless attempts to break it and rush into his brother's arms. His breath had gotten wild, his desperation becoming heartache, as he stared, wide eyed, into Wests's smiling face. If he was able to break the barrier, he would be able to see his brother again, escape this hell of a school, escape from Quirrell, and they could go home, and everything can go back to normal. Just him and West, sitting happily in grassy fields, staring at the sunset, sharing glasses of beer. The nation balled his hand into a fist and lifted it-

The same bony fingers of Quirrell came into view and held his wrist before he could throw the punch. He swiveled his head to stare at the professor, his eyes going wild, his teeth clenched, his shoulders shaking and his lips quivering.

"There, I brought you to the damn mirror. Work your magic, boy." Quirrell snarled, effortlessly picking the albino up by the collar, his small frame lifted from the ground entirely. "Tell me, where is it, how do I get the Stone-"

"Calm down, Quirrell." Came the familiar cool voice that Prussia had been hearing. He had no idea who it was from or if it even existed, but Quirrell seemed to obey it. Said professor narrowed his eyes, and held Prussia up closer. The nation shuddered, feeling the professor's hot breath on his face.

"I will ask you one more time. Tell me where the Philosopher's Stone is."

Prussia didn't answer.

"You idiot." Said the other voice. "You didn't lift the spell, how the fuck do you expect him to talk?"

"Right. Thank you, sir." Quirrell groaned, flicking his wand. Immediately, Prussia's throat loosened, and he gasped, feeling air flowing freely to his lungs again. He let out a fit of coughs, bending down and clutching his chest. Quirrell's boot collided with his back as he did so, and he winced at the pain.

"Tell me."

"I- I don't know!" As soon as Prussia said those words, the boot on his back pressed him down harder, unpleasant cracks echoed through the mostly empty room.

A sudden realization hit him. Quirrell hadn't sound-proofed the room, unlike what he did with his own room.

The nation screamed.

* * *

"There's mice and brandy, he might get hungry..." Hagrid mumbled.

"Enough of it, I hope." Hermione muttered under her breath.

"A-and a teddy bear j-just in case my b-baby gets lonely..." Hagrid sniffed, and it turned into a full sob. "B-bye, Norbert, Mummy will miss you..." Vlad stared solemnly at the crate, patting the giant's back. Harry would have almost felt sorry for him if it wasn't for the violent scratches and tearing noises that echoed from the crate - that teddy bear may need to get its head sewn back on soon...

"Aight, stay strong, Hagrid." Vlad gave the giant a small reassuring smile, then wrapped his arms around Hagrid's large frame in the biggest hug he could manage. Then, without so much a word, he effortlessly picked up the rattling crate and draped Harry's invisibility cloak over himself and Hermione and Harry. He waved one last goodbye to Hagrid, though the man couldn't see him, and he was off, slipping out the door, quickly and soundlessly sprinting across the school grounds and into the castle. Harry, even though he wasn't carrying anything heavy, was already panting by the time they got indoors, but Vlad was hardly fazed. It was almost as if he had done things like this a million times before.

Through the Entrance Hall, pass corridors, hurrying up stairs, Vlad made it look so easy. He was only holding the crate with one hand, and they only stopped for Harry and Hermione to catch their breath. Besides the occasional loud breathing from Hermione and Harry's scuttling footsteps, the trip went smoothly. They had taken a shortcut that Harry knew, but he was sure it helped little, compared to the work that Vlad was doing.

Vlad suddenly perked up, and put a hand in front of Harry and Hermione, making them stopped short. Vlad gave them a tiny, almost inaudible hiss to shush them up, and they waited, in the middle of the hallway, in the shadows, wondering what Vlad was up to next. Several minutes passed before they heard faint shouting from the distance, and lamp shone on them, almost making Harry jump and run, if it wasn't for Hermione nudging him to remind him about the invisibility cloak. Two figures were up ahead, only a few feet away, one grabbing at the other, which kept backing away.

"Detention!" Professor McGonagall, in her hairnet and dressing gown, screamed at a smaller person. "And twenty points from Slytherin! How dare you walk around in the middle of the night-"

"But Professor, you don't understand, that piece of rubbi- I mean, Harry Potter's coming and he has a dragon-"

"The only piece of rubbish here is you, Malfoy, and all the lies you dare tell! I will need to see Professor Snape about you, you little-"

Harry held his breath as they passed, and only when they disappeared around the corner did he allow himself to breathe again. He heard a soft snort from Vlad, before feeling the man's fingers tighten around his wrist and pulling him forward. This was only then did Harry notice that Vlad's hand was ice cold and almost stiff. Harry shivered. Perhaps it was a bit cold today...? Surely not?

Vlad heaved the crate up the spiral staircase of the tower as if it was a box of feathers. They emerged outside into the chilly night, and Harry immediately lifted the Cloak off his face, glad to feel cool, fresh air enter his lungs, while Vlad settled the jolting crate down on the ground. Hermione grinned widely, threw her hands in the air, and did a little lively dance.

"Raise a glass to freedom, something Malfoy can never take away-"

"Please stop singing..."

"Sorry." Hermione smiled slyly, and Harry couldn't help but smirk too. Finally, Malfoy was out of their lives. Or at least for a day or two. But he was getting the punishment that he deserved!

"Alright, Charlie's buddies should be here any minute..." Vlad stared expectedly into the sky. Harry had never noticed before, but his red eyes seemed to really...glow in the moonlight. And so did his skin, which was so pale it was almost white.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Oh, Vlad's eyes had shifted to him. Harry shook his head. The man simply shrugged. "Oh, I can hear them. They're almost here."

They waited a few more minutes, just gazing at the gleaming stars in the indigo sky, a soft breeze stirring not a single creature from the vast fields down bellow. Vlad visibly perked up when a group of bats - a furious flutter of wings, covering the already dark sky in a black veil - passed by as the wind blew. It was then that Harry realized it wasn't wind at all, but the swishing sound of four broomsticks that soared gracefully in the sky for a few seconds before swooping down, lightly landing on the ground which they stood on.

Vlad smiled and waved at the people on the broomsticks, but they exchanged no words as they lifted the crate which contained Norbert. In a couple of seconds, with blurred fingers, Vlad had already rigged up a harness on the broomsticks, and buckled Norbert safely onto it. Harry and Hermione went up to shake their hands, thanking them as they did so, and received cheerful smiles. And at last, Charlie's friends mounted their broomsticks, waved once more, and shot off into the sky as quickly as they came. Harry watched them as they became tiny dots, disappearing into the clouds. There was Norbert, in that crate, going...going...and gone.

They stayed that way for just a few seconds, Vlad saying silent goodbyes to Norbert, Harry feeling the massive weight on his shoulders lift. And then they turned to head back, Hermione smiling triumphantly, Vlad's chipper expression faltering just a little when they stepped inside, away from the freezing air. They headed back down the spiraling staircase, feeling as relieved and refreshed as ever. The excitement from earlier that night had faded, and they were more relaxed when they made their way to the halls. Norbert was gone, safe with Charlie, and Malfoy was probably sulking in detention somewhere.

Victory was short lived, as a long, shrill screech shattered the comfortable silence.

* * *

Denmark lay in the hospital bed, bored. After the talk with Iceland, Norway had taken him back, telling him that he shouldn't move for a while. He sighed, his gaze shifting to the stack of paperwork on the bedside table and a suspicious brown stain on the sheets that smelled like coffee and butter. He stayed that way for a while, his eyes darted around the room in boredom, the clock on the wall somewhere out of his vision slowly ticking softly as seconds, then minutes flew by. Besides that, though, there was a hot, uncomfortable silence, and the hospital room felt too suffocating.

An earsplitting shriek made Denmark's blood turn cold. It was high-pitched and distant, and it sounded painful and agonizing and undoubtedly _Prussian._

He shot up from his bed, resisting the urge to scream because of the sting that shot from his ribcage to all over his body. He clenched his teeth, sucked up his breath, closed his eyes, and, heaving with mighty effort, leapt off the bed. His legs shook and he staggered a bit, pain flaring from his ribcage, but he got a hold of the bedside table that was overflowing with Nor's paperwork. He hissed softly to himself and clutched his his flank, though it didn't help with the throbbing. Another softer howl startled him, and he forced himself forward. He sluggishly edged to the door, stumbling and almost tripping on his feet, trailing his hand along the wall to keep himself as steady as he could. His skin was burning and it hurt with every slight movement, but he kept going until he reached the door.

Opening it as slowly, so he won't wake up Madam Pomfrey, who was sleeping at her desk, the Dane slipped out the door carefully, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the doorframe. Feeling cool air - or at least cooler air than the hospital wing - he let the wooden structure close with a click. And then he went, legs aching, hands trembling, stumbling through the dark hallways, panting heavily from the effort. His side still hurt, a lot, but now it was more of a numbing throbbing pain. His vision blurred from time to time, his head burning, but he pushed himself forward towards what he thought was the source of Prussia's scream - the third floor corridor. Wherever the albino was, he was alive, and in _danger_.

He had to stop and lean on the wall ever so often to catch his breath. At some point, he heard a crack in his ribcage, and suddenly the hand that was grasping his flank felt wet and warm. Groaning, Denmark kept moving, praying that his nation healing would do its thing and keep him conscious for just a while longer. Climbing up the stares was excruciatingly hard, as every muscle he moved resulted in aches and cramps. Not only that, but his leg muscles were having a spasm. Damn. He Inhaled deeply, never getting enough oxygen to fuel his rapidly beating heart. Everything _hurt_.

Finally, after what felt like hours of panting, he reached the third floor. A sudden rush of adrenaline ran through his blood, and he limped towards the corridor - _that_ corridor - as fast as he can. His vision wasn't helping; it blurred and doubled and sometimes darkened, and he had to stop for a fraction of a second when he was about a quarter way to the corridor. Something was there, by the door. A small figure, hidden in the shadows, away from the moonlight, was slumped by the wooden structure in a strange, uncomfortable position. Denmark gritted his teeth and quickened his pace, groaning at every sharp sting that traveled up his body from his legs.

He reached the figure by the door, barely able to stand. He collapsed down next to the boy, relieved yet scared to see the familiar white hair and pale skin. Prussia was breathing, but barely. He was incredibly thin, and his thin cloak did little to cover up his shirt, where ribs shown through. Denmark shuddered. The boy looked so frail and fragile, shivering, in his huddled position. A sudden calmness washed over the Scandinavian nation as he watched his friend's chest rise and fall in quick, shallow breaths. Prussia was _alive_. Or at least as alive as Prussia could be. And because of this, Denmark was finally at ease, even if Prussia wasn't completely, 100% safe.

The blond's head spun, and he was forced to close his eyes. The adrenaline from earlier was gone, replaced by a dull, numbing sensation that made it hard for him to breath. His skin burnt, his heart was pounding in his chest from all the effort it took for him to drag himself all the way here. And because of this, Denmark didn't notice Quirrel's foot appearing from a door at the far end of the hallway.

* * *

 **A/N: Ok, I think I might have to explain that whole bit with Iceland and dark magic. I've had this headcanon for some time (Though, to be completely honest with you, I didn't even have it in mind when I wrote Denmark's and Finland's fight. That was all Danish Slaughterhouse, I tell ya.)**

 **Anyways, it was just a pathetic attempt to explain why Norway is the emotionless person he is. Also even Hima doesn't know England's real personality, and that's why the character is so popular - people can write him in whichever way they want and nothing actually feels OOC, ya know? That last part was a jab to the fact that literally no one in the fandom knows Iceland's real personality, hehe. Also, the Harry thing. His personality is like...nothing in the books, or at least that's my opinion XD Don't hate me lol  
**

 **I've had to remake and rearrange the events in this chapter a LOT. And yet the scenes don't transition that well. I need to work on that, hehe. Sorry if anything seems awkward or out of place.**

 **Anyways, if you've read this far, then congratulations. You've survived the shittiest fanfiction known to man. By the way, I've decided not to discontinue it, because something in me still enjoys making it, no matter how bad it is, hehe. After all, it's just practice for when I get to writing actually good stuff. You've gotta make tons of bad stuff before you can make a single good thing!**


	18. Chapter 18

Romania found them first.

They were lying by the door that opened to the third-floor corridor, with Denmark clutching his sides, completely unconscious, and Prussia next to him with half-lidded eyes, barely breathing. The fallen nation's red eyes slightly twitched, but otherwise didn't move, as Romania swiftly approached him, bending down to check his pulse - which proved useless, for Romania had forgotten about Prussia's death. The albino was shivering, and flinched when the vampire checked for injuries around his body instead. There were some small scars here and there, but mostly nothing.

Norway arrived next, and wordlessly dropped next to Denmark, the frown on his face growing wider. In a flash the nation picked the blond up, the body resting limply in his arms. His eyes shifted to Prussia and for a second they narrowed, but he still remained quiet.

Filch was last, bounding behind, slower behind since he didn't have the nations' super speed. His grumbling and complaining would have been incoherent to a normal human, and he wouldn't have said anything at all if he knew who these men were. He then hurried off again, to tell Dumbledore the news, but not before yelling orders at the nations to take the students to the hospital wing. Norway, too tired to glare or shoot back a witty comment, simply cocked his head at Romania as a silent signal, and they were off, disappearing into the night.

Word got around quickly. Any attempts to hide evidence of the incident was futile, for every student had heard the scream, although it was distant and quite muffled. It shook a lot of them awake, and by breakfast the next morning there was already a crowd of students surrounding Iceland, Finland, and Sweden, all of them pushing and jostling to get to the nations first. It seems that Prussia's voice was recognizable, and everyone had gotten extremely curious, especially after they discovered the albino in the hospital wing, next to Denmark, who looked as crippled as ever.

Iceland had shrunk down and tried to slip away, and when that didn't work he simply shoved them out of the way while Finland stayed behind and apologized profusely. However, a single glare from Sweden send most of the crowd running for the hills, though a few Hufflepuffs who knew the Swede kept on questioning the trio. In the end, the three took refuge in the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey, who as at this point frustrated and ready to pull her hair out, shooed everyone else.

Unlike Denmark, Prussia was awake when they brought him in. He said nothing, simply laying on his bed with his mouth slightly parted, red eyes staring ahead without looking at nothing in particular. He didn't move that much when Madam Pomfrey checked him, simply staring pass her as if he had trouble processing what is happening. The nations had tried countless times to talk to him, but only received nothing but blank stares. This didn't stop them, and they kept coming back to see if the albino had gained his senses.

"Gilbert." Romania said one evening, after observing Prussia stare at the wall for half an hour. He got no reply, so he trotted over and sat on the bed, gently placing a hand on the albino's shoulder. "Gilbert, can you hear me?"

The nation twitched when the vampire touched him, but still took a couple twenty seconds before giving Romania a small nod.

"Ok, Gilbert, would you mind telling me what happened?"

There was silence for a while. Romania tensely watched as the albino slowly lifted his head up and sluggishly blinked. His eyebrows furrowed and a frown crept on his face. His red eyes drifted over to Gilbird by the bedside table, and back to the wall. And finally, in a quiet, monotone voice, "Not really."

Romania's expression turned grim. "Ah."

The albino's eyes fell to his hands on the sheets. They twitched, and curled into a weak fist as he mumbled, "I found West."

"Huh?" Romania straitened himself up and his eyes widened. "What did you say?"

But Prussia was already gone, staring at the wall in silence once more.

"Definitely a memory-erasing spell." Scotland had muttered under his breath to Norway and Romania. "It did more than that though - fucked up his brain pretty bad."

"Must be pretty strong." Romania frowned. "Is there a way to undo it?"

"I'll try." was Norway's reply before he locked himself in his room for a while, to practice his magic undisturbed.

Dumbledore too, had tried multiple times to reverse the spell, and came up with nothing. Upon hearing Prussia's claim about finding his brother, the wizard alerted the school staff and told them to keep their ears open and eyes peeled; all the while telling certain people to go on regular search parties. He had been trying to keep Prussia's disappearance a secret to not destroy the school's reputation, but now nothing can be done about it.

Snape, one of the people on the search parties, simply looked annoyed, and his glare became more murderous every night when he skipped sleep to walk around the castle aimlessly for a few hours. Filch was just irritated, probably tired of everything that is being piled up on all the shit he had to go through every day. Professor McGonagall was indifferent, while Professor Quirrell had become as white and shaky as ever. Poor guy was probably scared of whatever monster lurked around the school.

Shaken by the discovery of Prussia, Iceland had taken it upon himself to also help look for whatever or whoever kidnapped him and erased his memories, despite Norway's constant warnings to stay out of it, fearing his safety. He suggested the idea at dinner, when he, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Finland, and Sweden were huddled together at the Hufflepuff table. It didn't seem at least bit suspicious, since everyone else were in their own little groups too, whispering urgently about Prussia, too focused on their conversation to care about what Iceland was going to say (and those who do try to come over to talk to Iceland, Sweden would send them off with his usual glare) Iceland did noticed a few break away from their groups for a second to point and sneer at Harry Potter. He didn't understand why, but he shrugged it off.

"We have to look in that third floor corridor - it's where we found him, only logical thing is to search in there for clues. Plus, we have Sw- Berwald, so we don't have to worry about the dog." Iceland nodded to the blond, whose permanent glare had hardened and whose hand gripped his wife's.

"Oh..." Hermione mumbled.

"I'd hate to tell you, but..." Harry trailed off.

"We were caught last night." Hermione sighed. Iceland blinked.

"What?"

"Yeah, er, Professor McGonagall wasn't exactly thrilled to find us wandering around the castle at 1am, pretending to have come out of our dorms when we heard Gilbert screaming even though Filch has clearly spotted us before it happened." Harry shrugged. "And she was very much not amused when Malfoy had heard the 'lie' about the dragon and tried to get us in trouble, while 'poor Neville' had also heard it and come to talk to her about it."

"Oh. Oh no." Ron shrunk into his seat. "Did she punish you?"

"Of course she did." Hermione hissed, though it was a mystery whether she was angry at Harry or at herself. "And she took, what, a hundred fifty points from us?" The bushy-haired girl massaged her head, clearly frustrated. "The Slytherins'll have the House Cup now, and everyone's avoiding us."

And all at once everything dawned on Iceland. "Ah, so that's why everyone is giving you dirty looks?"

Hermione shot him a tired glance. "You haven't heard about this?"

Iceland and Ron shook his head. Finland just sighed. "Well, it'd be best if you didn't come with us then, couldn't risk getting in more trouble..."

"But we didn't receive detention." Harry pointed out. "Or at least not until the school clears the whole situation with Gilbert. Normally we'd have to go to the Forbidden Forest to do God knows what, but since it's now clearly dangerous, there's no chance of us going near it any time soon. And given the circumstances, no-one would focus on us for long, because, you know, Gilbert..."

"That's great then, isn't it?" Finland beamed. "Then we can look around however much we want, right?"

Hermione paled. "Leave me out, I don't want to get caught again." She said, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"And Wife." Sweden began, talking for the first time that day. "It's dangerous."

"He's not scared." Iceland butted in.

"I'll be fine, Berwald. Finland giggled. "Plus, I have you." At that comment, Sweden's face turned red as a beat.

"Please, stay out of trouble." Hermione pleaded. "Gyffindor's been through enough, we don't want Hufflepuff-"

"Well, I don't care." Iceland cut in, aware he was being stubborn. "I'm going to look around, find whoever did that to Gilbert, and get rid of them."

"Emil. Wife." It was Sweden's monotone voice, gaining the group's attention. "Hermione is right. We can't risk it. Not right now."

"But Berwald-" Tino began.

"Berwald!" Iceland turned to him, annoyed. "Since when do you care? You know we can do this-"

"Emil, listen to me." Hermione sighed. "We really can't risk it, especially since the teacher patrols around the school are more abundant than ever."

"But Hermione!" Iceland protested, raising his voice just a little more. "Harry's got his cloak, I know when someone is coming from a mile away. Looking around won't hurt, I can do it-"

"No, Ice." The Swede's eyes were fixed on him. "Ice, let the adults handle it, you know we wouldn't forgive ourselves if something happened to you, like it did to Pr-"

"I DON'T CARE!" Iceland yelled, banging his fists on the table, and the chattering in the Great Hall died down. He glared at Sweden, seething. "WHY DON'T YOU EVER TRUST ME? YOU, NOR, FIN, AND DEN ALL TREAT ME LIKE I'M A CHILD, LIKE I CAN'T TAKE CARE OF MYSE-"

"What are you trying to prove?"

Iceland froze. His mouth went dry, and he didn't need to turn around to recognize the composed yet harsh and stone cold voice of his brother.

"Iceland." Norway said again, using his real name. The other students in the hall didn't say a word, and he could feel the curious gazes of the teachers from their table. "Tell me. What are you trying to prove?"

There was silence. Iceland's arms were shaking, and he couldn't bear to look at Norway. Finally, lips quivering, he whipped around and stormed out of the Great Hall, his face burning as he felt the millions of eyes following him all the way to the door. The seconds felt like hours, and when he was finally out the great hall, he took a deep breath and began sprinting all the way to the Hufflepuff tower without looking back.

He zipped past the common room, where students who had skipped dinner watched him curiously as he scaled the stairs and to his room, slamming the door shut. He plopped down on his bed with a huff, slouching. He gazed to the part of his bedside table where Mr. Puffin usually slept, but now he was gone, probably causing trouble somewhere else; Iceland was too tired to care.

He sighed, propping his chin on his hands. What _was_ he doing? It's not like he cared about stupid Prussia or stupid disappearing England's stupid school or literally anything. But there was just something about the tone people used to talk to him that irritated him. He absentmindedly picked up his bag and ruffled through it, looking for something to do to clear his mind. He reached for his phone, which sat down at the very bottom of the bag, hidden away from the world of ancient technology, when his fingers brushed against a familiar worn-down leather texture.

Deciding to leave the phone, he pulled out the book instead, examining the burn cover and the filthy, fragile pages within it. He opened it, looking through Nicolas Flamel's stupid notes which stupid Norway had deemed useless. He found the pages with the spells that he had tried and failed, cringing at the memories. Surely he was better at them now, he thought to himself as he reached for his wand in his cloak and tried one out. Perhaps he had said the spell wrong, or flicked his wand incorrectly, because there was still nothing. Deciding not to angrily chuck the book to the other side of the room, he continued on to the next pages, careful not to accidentally rip it by turning it, when something caught his eye.

He stopped dead, finding a spell that peaked his interest. "Reversing a curse on a nation, huh?" He squinted to read the stupid cursive handwriting that was too squiggly to make sense of. A someone smug smirk appeared on his face as he triumphantly held the book up just a little higher, the setting sun's light brightening up the parchment. It was a particularly long spell, and God knows how long it would take him to learn how to pronounce it, let alone recite it and practice the wand movements to go with it. Oh, but Norway's surprised face and Denmark's and Finland's and Sweden's praise would be so worth it...

* * *

Denmark was shaken awake in a cold sweat.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the blinding light, and even more for the strange pulsing sensation in his head and the buzzing in his ear to stop. He gasped, heaving himself up with his weak arms, his hands clammy and clutching the sheets around him tightly.

Sheets. Was he in a bed?

It took a moment to register the soft, warm surface on which he rested, and the uncomfortably hot cloth that sat on him, falling down as he sat up. His surroundings were still blurry, and it took more blinking than he would have liked to process what he was seeing. In front of him was the hospital wing, the scene that he had grown so used to. What was different was Scotland, slouching in a corner on a small stool with a book on his face, letting out loud snores, and Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen. Iceland sat less far off, at the foot of a bed a metre or two away, his shoulders tense, his eyes fixed, unblinking, at a familiar leather-bound book.

And on the bed sat a boy with white hair and dull red eyes, impossible to miss.

"Prus- Gilbert?"

Denmark's eyes widened as he immediately hopped from his bed and rushed over to the albino, staring intently at the cold, untouched bowl of soup if front of him."Prussia! What happened to you?"

The Prussian gave him a blank, emotionless stare, not saying a word. Denmark's smile faltered into more of a puzzled look as he moved closer, eyeing the albino curiously. Prussia's red eyes followed him, but he said and did nothing, only blinking sluggishly. "H-hey, Prussia? Are you ok?"

No answer. The Dane waved his hand in front of the Prussian's face.

"Hey." Denmark was really worried now, and he sat on the bed, a frown forming on his lips. "Prussia."

"..."

"Answer me!"

The blond grabbed his shoulders and shook them, desperation and confusion gnawing at his insides. "Hey! Prussia! Buddy! HEY!"

The soup bowl on the table on Prussia's lap spilled, its contents flowing and dripping off the wooden structure and onto Prussia's clothes and bed. And yet, the albino had no reaction and made no move to clean it.

"Prus?" Denmark's hope was falling, and fear and panic began to settle in. "P-prussia, what happened to you, who did this, where have you...why..."

Prussia didn't seem to be hearing him.

"Prussia, please." Denmark's voice had quieted down to a whisper. "Please, answer me."

"..."

"He's been like that for a while." It was Iceland, who was just now looking up from his book, his steady gaze fixed on the blond. A hint of fear flickered in his eyes for a moment when he saw Denmark, but it was gone just as soon as it appeared.

"What do you mean." Denmark said icily, letting out a bitter laugh, his clammy, shaky hands falling off Prussia's shoulders and landed limply on the bed. "What happened to him."

Iceland's expression was unreadable, and he sharply exhaled. "I don't know. He was like this when we found him."

"How long ago was it." Denmark's breath was unstable and his hand began fidgeting with the soaked bedsheets. The Dane observed Prussia as he fell back onto his pillow, staring curiously at the blond as if he had never seen him before.

"How long ago was what?"

"Prussia." Denmark's quivering voice was rising, though he himself didn't know why. "Since you found him. How long have you kept him here, unstable, as you all stare down at him doing nothing."

"Hey." Iceland growled, closing his book. "We're not doing nothing. We're all trying our best to heal him, ok? Madam Pomfry has gone mad trying to help the both of you, even shouted at Dumbledore when he told her to take a break and let Scot fill in for her. Nor hasn't slept for two days, and I've been researching for god knows how long."

Denmark gave him a doubtful look, his frown deepening, desperation and panic gnawing in his insides. No, it wasn't panic. It was concern.

"Denmark, look-"

The door slammed open, starling Iceland quite a bit and making his book drop out of his hands. Romania trotted in, the usual grin on his face. He brightened up when he spotted the frowning Denmark on Prussia's bed, and he immediately hopped over.

"Mathias! You're awake!"

"Don't touch me!" Denmark growled when Romania leaned in with his arms spread wide for a hug.

The vampire stepped back, feigning dejection and pouting childishly. "What has gotten into you lately?" he asked, when, in fact, he already knew.

"Nothing."

Romania suddenly clapped his hands together, his eyes brightening and his smile returning. "Oh, by the way! Good news from Norway!"

"Oh, goody." Iceland rolled his eyes. He was ignored.

"Prussia's behavior right now is just a small side-affect of whatever unidentified curse was put on him! It'll wear off, so he'll be back and up and running in no time!"

"Unidentified?" Denmark's animosity turned to worry. "Is he-"

"He'll be fine." Romania patted the blond's shoulder, giving him a reassuring grin. "Just gotta wait for it."

Denmark breathed a huge sigh of relief, glancing back at Prussia, who had begun spooning his now empty soup bowl. "I'll change his covers." Iceland grumbled, waving his wand."Madam Pomfrey taught me this cool trick since I'm, ya know, always here." A small beam shot out of his wand, and the bedsheets shifted and began twitching slightly, only to stop, resulting in a very disappointed Icelandic. "Damn, when has my Norway genes failed me?"

Denmark laughed, his attention returning to Prussia looking hungrily at his empty bowl. "Someone get this guy more food."

"Beer."

Denmark blinked, his eyes wide with hope as he violently grabbed the albino's shoulders again. "Prus? D-did you just talk?"

He received silence.

"He does that from time to time." Iceland shrugged, putting his wand down in defeat after failing to change the bedsheets. "Randomly talks, says the same shit you'd normally expect him to say, only quieter, thank god."

"Well, you heard the man!" Denmark threw his hands up, already feeling better after hearing Prussia talk. "Get him some beer! Come one!"

"School won't be happy to find out I gave beer to a 'minor'." Romania mumbled. "Though it would be interesting to see what happens when you give a Prussian some beer after he's been affected by dark magic-"

"Romania. No." Iceland gave him a deadpanned look. Romania giggled, roughly patting the young Nordic on the back, making him groan.

"That's it! I'm getting him beer!"Cue Iceland angrily yelling and Romania chortling, clutching his sides as tears rolled down his eyes. "Yes! Yes! This is going to be the best thing ever!"

Denmark snorted, and, after a moment, began howling with laughter too.

"What's all the ruckus?" Came a grunt from the other side of the room. Scotland had woken up and was now groggily rubbing his eyes, yawning and smacking his lips. "What the hell?"

"Hey, Scot." Denmark beamed.

"Hey." Scotland blinked multiple times, scratching his head, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown forming on his face. "What the hell..."

"Something wrong?"

Scotland suddenly got to his feet, staggering a bit from the sleepiness. His frown deepened, and his eyes began frantically darting around the room. His teeth clenched. "What the hell!"

"Scot, what is it?"

Scotland growled, his fingers twitching as he paced around the room. "I felt them."

"You what?" Romania tilted his head, not sure of how to respond.

"It was there for one goddamn second but they're definitely there." The nation rubbed his temples furiously. "Shit. I lost them. They were just right there and I fucking lost them-"

"Scot, calm down, what happened-"

"I felt them in my land just a second ago! Goddamnit! I lost them!" Scotland snarled. "The G8 - they were just _right here_ -"

* * *

"Good morning!"

Harry stepped through the door, the familiar smell of the hospital wing greeting him. Ron and Hermione was behind him, and the bushy-haired girl beamed when she saw that Mathias was awake and happily chatting away with Emil. The silver-haired boy had his head buried in his book, ignoring as the blond next to him yapping on and on. He looked up when Harry entered the room, and greeted him with a nod.

"Oh, hey, Harry! Good morning!" Mathias, following Emil's gaze, excitedly waved at the trio, looking a lot happier than usual. "Didja miss me?"

"Of course we did!" Ron laughed as the trio settled down on some chairs lying around Mathias's bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, fine, my body just kinda aches from time to time, that's all." He waved his hand, dismissing the subject. "Anyways, what brings you guys here?"

"Ah, we came to see Gilbert. How is he?"

"Oh, he's getting better!" Mathias grinned. "Hey, hey, Gil, say hi." The blond patted the albino softly on the shoulder. Said albino blinked, hesitating for a second, before mumbling something under his breath. Mathias nudged him. "Can't hear ya!"

"Hi." Said the German, more forcefully, a hint of annoyance flashing in his eyes. Mathias looked like a proud mother.

"That's great to hear." Hermione giggled.

"DIIIID I HEAR GILBERT THE AWESOME?" It was Fred, who burst into the room cheering, with George not far behind. "Gilbert! He's awake!" They skipped to the albino and the blond next to him, and Fred begun hugging Gilbert while George hugged Mathias.

"Whoa! Guys! Hey!" Mathias let out a great guffaw. "Oh, Fred, be careful, you're going to suffocate him-"

Fred immediately released Gilbert, who gave him a miffed glare. Fred just giggled, before joining George with suffocating Mathias instead. The Dane chortled, hugging them both back before pulling away to catch his breath. "Oh crap, I can't breathe." The three of them began patting each other's backs, laughing until they could barely breathe and had to sit down to catch their breath.

"Mathias! Good to have you back!"

"Same goes to you, my friend!" Mathias gave them his usual megawatt grin. "Man, once Gil gets out of here we're going to wreck the school!"

"Fred. George. No."

"Aw, come on, Ron!" George gave his brother a cheeky smirk. "It's going to be fun!"

"What are you even doing here?" Ron grunted, ignoring their last statement. "You're going to give Madam Pomfrey a headache.

"Just wanted to see our favourite baby brother! Oh, by the way-" Fred turned to Harry. "Remember that thing I gave you?"

"What thing?"

"Ya know..."

"Oh, right." Harry remembered that little Snitch-sized ball that the brothers had handed to him quite earlier in the year, which he had kept in his cloak ever since. He now pulled it out, the little round ball of swirling colours. "You mean this?"

"Yes!" George beamed. "We made those when we didn't have our wands, but now that we do..."

"Fred. George. What are you doing." Ron gave them a concerned look. Hermione edged away, uneasy."

"Relax, baby brother. Come here, Harry, give it to me." Harry, perplexed, handed Fred he little ball. He took it, and both he and George pointed their wands at it, muttering something under their breath. Harry watched curiously as they twirled their wand, small sparks emitting from the little ball. Hermione stared at it worriedly, while Ron massaged his head because he was done with everyone's shit and he was surrounded by idiots.

"There we go! All done!"

"...What did you do to it?" Harry was starting to become a bit on edge.

"We just enhanced it." Fred said.

"Bigger explosions." George grinned. "We've tried it out and everything, didn't you see it in the Quidditch field yesterday?"

Mathias suddenly gasped. "That was you? Can I have one of those things?" He beamed when he earned nods from the brothers, who threw him a small ball similar to Harry's. "Wow, oh man, I'm totally going to prank Lukas. Oh, oh, I need one for Vlad too, after he comes back from the meeting with Scot to talk about the G- oh, never mind, just give me one more. "

"Can't say that I do, we've been busy studying." Harry coughed, ignoring Mathias.

"Speaking of which. We should get going." Hermione piped up. "We can't risk getting a bad score on our exams."

"Seriously, Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron, now let's go, we've wasted enough time."

And they did, exiting the hospital wing, bidding goodbye to an excited Mathias, two bragging brothers, and a completely uninterested Emil. Hermione immediately headed off to the library, leaving the two boys behind as they took their time getting there - both Harry and Ron weren't keen about studying. As they walked down the halls they noticed that the people around the, were glaring at them - or more specifically Harry himself. He then remembered that he had lost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty points one night, and no one except the Slytherins were happy.

"Don't worry," Ron, who noticed it, reassured him. "Fred and George lose points all the time, everyone will forget it in a week."

"They haven't lost a hundred and fifty all at once, did they?"

"...No." Ron sighed. "But hey, look at Gilbert, they all forgot about him losing all those points every time he got caught outside at night!" Everyone knew about his late-night wandering, and most had suspected that he had gone missing because of that.

"Well, no one can dislike the guy! Besides," Harry sighed, "they all forgot about it because he was found screaming by the third-floor corridor!"

"By the way." Ron's fake smile fell, and his eyes darkened. "Do you have a clue what happened to him?"

"How long has he been missing, exactly?"

Ron shrugged. "I knew there was something fishy when Professor Bondevik said that he was having 'special lessons' with him, but no-one has seen him for ages." The sudden realization that Bondevik had been lying to them all this time hit Harry, and he felt his stomach sink. How long had the professor been keeping things away from them? How many more secrets did he have?

"Ugh, it's just..." Harry shook his head. "I don't trust him at all. Him or Mathias or any of their weird friends that showed up one day and everyone just freaking accepts it."

"I know." Ron's voice softened to a whisper. "Do you think they're using their dark magic on everyone?"

Harry shook his head. "We can't be too sure, though, I am starting to think that..." The Gryffindor student stopped dead in his tracks. "Why was he found by the third-floor corridor?" He gave Ron a worried look."Do you think he was going to get the Stone? W-what if Bondevik is just using him?"

"He doesn't know how though."Ron pointed out. "And if he did, he wouldn't have taken that long, would he? And he wouldn't have lost his mind in the process?"

"Ron, it's easy to get past Fluffy with Berwald."

"Berwald wasn't missing for months."

"Because Fluffy is just the first stage!" Harry insisted. "There's still all those magic barriers put up by the teachers, so after Berwald helps him gets past Fluffy, he goes off by himself to get the Stone! It all makes sense! They're dark wizards, all of them, and they're trying to get the Stone for Voldemort-"

"SHH!" Ron hissed. "Don't say that name! And you're talking too loud!" The redhead sighed. "Harry, my head hurts. I thought we were suspecting Snape for stealing the stone?"

"Yeah, but-" Harry quieted down, and only now did he hear the faint whimpers from the classroom up ahead. A quick glance at Ron told him that the redhead had heard it too. They crept up to it, quietly, making sure that no one gave them any attention. Then they stood, listening to the familiar squeaky voice of Professor Quirrell on the other side of the door.

"No - not again - no - please, sir-" He sounded like he was being threatened. Harry inched closer, his breath caught in his throat. " Alright, sir - yes, sir - alright..." Poor professor Quirrell was sobbing, Harry moved backwards, pushing Ron away, as Quirrell opened the door and stepped outside. Harry caught a glimpse of his face - he looked like he was going to cry - and he sped away, his shoulders hunched and his head hanging. Harry and Ron looked at each other worriedly - Quirrell had given in at last, it seems.

"It's Snape, isn't it?" Ron whispered as Professor Quirrell disappeared behind the corner. Harry peaked into look into the room that Quirrell had come from."See, I told you, I don't think Bondevik's the bad guy here, Snape is definitely-"

But Harry wasn't listening. All his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the familiar blond male with a cross-pin and muggle hat.

* * *

The scent of blood was unbearably tempting.

Romania's usual late-night expeditions and patrol around the school halted when he caught a whiff, ears immediately perking up. Unicorn blood. Just the little hint of the stuff made his stomach rumble, a reminder that he hadn't eaten since he had gotten to Hogwarts - being a nation, he was able to survive for this long, but it was quite a pain to live through. Mesmerized by the thought of having a meal, his eyes darted around to see if there was anyone watching, before he headed in the general direction of the scent.

 _No, of course I'm not going to eat it_ , Romania thought to himself, biting his lip. Yes, once he finds the source, he'll immediately report to Hagrid and Dumbles. He sometimes overheard them talking about dead unicorns that Hagrid found, and it was becoming quite a problem since they didn't know who or what would kill an innocent being - or who or what was able to catch such thing as a unicorn. Yes, he'll definitely tell them, and he definitely wouldn't have a lick, even if he had eaten it before a few hundred years ago and it was quite delicious-

The vampire shook his head in a desperate attempt to clear the thoughts. He arrived in the edge of the Forbidden Forest, so dense and black it would be hard for a normal human to see past the first few trees. The scent had gotten a bit stronger. Making sure that no-one was around again, he cautiously crept into the overgrowth, into the bushes and clumps of tress. He noticed some bits of silvery liquid on some of the wood and moss. Unable to contain himself, he touched it and hungrily licked it off his finger.

The sweet, tangy flavour made his heart soar. He smacked his lips, savoring it, before hesitantly taking another bit. God, it was just as good as he remembered.

 _Focus, Romania_ , he scolded himself, getting back to the matter at hand. The unicorn has been struggling and was clearly staggering all over the place, judging from the fact that the heavenly liquid was dripping from every corner. _Should probably get a proper dinner soon_ , he told himself before continuing on his way, following the trail. Leaves crunched under his feet as he too large steps and occasionally jumps to avoid shrubs and thorns, and ducked under low-handing branches that blocked the wind, letting only a long, still, silence.

It was too quiet.

There were no howls or squeaks or scuttles or crinkles in the leaves, nor did he feel footsteps or heartbeats in the otherwise living earth, like a forest should have. His eyes scanned the dark forest overgrowth, through ever nook and cranny of the tree stems and fallen logs and moss and deep green vines, noting that a light fog has descended upon him, making the shadows and silhouettes all the more haunting. Even with his enhanced night vision, the vampire couldn't see any signs of life other than the plants, just the same uncomfortable stillness that was almost strangely calming, yet sent chills up his back. The only sound he heard was his own boots treading on the forest floor and his heartbeat, increasingly faster by the minute.

When he was sure he had trekked far enough from the castle to be out of earshot, he shot to one of the highest branches he could find, shattering the silence with the rush of rustling leaves. In a second he was hanging upside-down, his hands on soft moss and his hair flowing away from his eyes, letting him see his surroundings easier. The smell of blood was strong, at least to him, and he guessed that it was about a few hundred metres away into the forest. Through the fog he mapped out his path, the easiest way possible to rush through the trees, intending to be as agile and make as little noise as possible.

He swung back upright on the branch, and with a little twist of his ankle, he briskly sprung up and leapt from branch to branch. Some cracked slightly under his weight, most had slippery moss and leaves that rippled, and the impact of his landings made soft ticks on the wood, but it was otherwise soundless, and he traveled quicker than lightning, making him appear as merely a swift blur. There was a soft, bubbling sound that grew louder as he went, reminding him that within this somewhat dead forest, there was still a babbling brook nearby. Romania thought he heard the sound of a cloak swishing on the ground, but, he reminded himself, he was hearing things due to his hunger. It was probably his own cloak anyway.

The metallic scent of blood became heavier with every second, and judging by the sudden increase in blood, the target nearing through the thick blanket of leaves...

The brook ran close, dark blue water foaming and splashing as they hit rocks in its path. Blood was abundant as ever, dripping from the leaves and horridly pooling on the ground. In the center of the clearing lay a dead body, its once glorious, now bloodstained mane gleaming in the moonlight that streamed through the cracks between the leaves. The unicorn's legs were broken, sticking out at strange angles, and its once lively eyes were now blankly staring ahead at nothing. It made Romania slightly sick in the stomach to see such a creature in this shape that it made him forget all about dinner.

Gulping, he took a step forward the fallen creature, craning his neck up to get a better look without moving too close. Suddenly, footsteps and rustling from the bushes made him stop dead in his tracks. Someone - or something, was coming closer - and they were headed right towards him. He scanned his surroundings for a branch favorably high above ground, and nimbly flung himself up, careful to be quiet. And there he hung, upside-down, waiting, watching with squinted eyes, not daring to move.

A figure swiftly stepped into the clearing half a minute later, a lowly shadow hidden by the cold, thick, misty fog. Its black cloak trailed on the ground, leaves crinkling under its feet as it made its way towards the unicorn's corpse. The rhythm of its footsteps was unrecognizable, its face stayed hidden under its hood and the mist and gloom, and the blood's smell - along with the usual earthy scent of the forest - was too overpowering; no matter how hard Romania tried to get a whiff of its scent, it only choked him with the usual metallic stench. The nation cursed silently to himself, realizing that he had no way of knowing who or what this creature was.

The person finally got to the unicorn, and its long slender body knelt down until its cloak looked just like a little blob of black in a sea of silvery blood. Its face still stayed hidden as it bent down and - oh god -

Was it _drinking the blood_?

Romania felt something rise in the pit that was his stomach. Was this creature like him - a vampire? Did it...did it _kill_ the unicorn itself? No, surely not, unicorns were hard to catch, and any self-respecting vampire won't _kill_ its victims - especially not a mythical creature like this - a pure and defenseless being. As he watch the horrid thing drink the blood of the innocent critter, he gulped, remembering that he himself had had a bit to eat too. The faint taste felt so wrong in his tongue now. The nation took a deep breath, erasing the memories away, and tried to search his brain for what specifically unicorn blood is good for besides its exquisite taste.

It struck him.

He remembered words that he heard before, from Norway, a few hundred years ago, maybe - when Romania had his first drink of unicorn blood.

 _"It's good, isn't it?" the pirate smirked, propping his chin on his hand as his piercing green eyes the vampire down down the liquid like water, his other moving around the cup, the liquid sloshing. Norway was beside him, with a book, his own cup completely untouched. Romania nodded, finishing it up in a few seconds, before reaching out to Norway's cup for more, seeing that the Nordic nation wasn't interested in drinking._

 _"Man, Romania smiled, patting his stomach after emptying Norway's cup. "I can't believe the Ministry banned this stuff."_

 _"Took them long enough." Norway murmured. "They should've done it years ago."_

 _Romania snorted. "And why is that?"_

 _Norway put his book down and stared at Romania, his expression unreadable."You'd have to take it from a unicorn, one of the purest and perfect creatures out there." His eyes dimmed. "And unlike you, Ro, people_ kill _the unicorn."_

 _England rolled his eyes._

 _"And t_ _ _hey say that the unicorn blood keeps you alive, no matter how close you are to death_ ," Norway continued, his fingers gripping his book tighter. "But you will live a cursed life. And considering how long our lives are..."_

 _"Don't be such a numpty, Nor." England grumbled, taking a sip from his own cup. "That's some bullshit, and you know that. The Ministry's just lost their marbles, and so have you, it seems. Don't you know how to have fun anymore?" He earned an annoyed huff from Norway. Romania snickered._

 _"Well, in any case, we should make the best of it before someone finds out!"._

They had laughed at it at the time, but now, Romania felt his stomach twist in knots. The figure - whatever or whoever it was - was doing something terribly, terribly wrong. The nation squinted, watching the cloaked character. It had finished drinking, and had gotten up, silvery liquid dripping from its chin and onto its cloak, staining it. It then began to turn away and hurried off, its shoulders hunched, pulling its hood until it completely covered its face, chin and all. Romania tried to follow it into the depths of the forest, cautiously moving his foot-

A part of the branch crackled under his weight, ever so slightly. And, in the center of a vast, unusually muted grove of trees, it was enough to make the figure look up.

Everything else was a blur. Romania had immediately plunged down from the tree as a bright green beam of light hit the spot he was once in. A second later, the tree shriveled up. A killing curse. Romania hissed, baring his fangs as the figure frantically whipped around and the same green light flashed before him. Romania leaped and rolled away in time just as another curse was sent flying at him, the vegetation around him drying up and blackening instantly.

He sprinted around the clearing, over bushes and under trees, dodging every spell, tumbling and falling the more steps he took. The figure was not stopping, and he could sense its agitation as it grasped its wand with thin, bony fingers, pointing it shakily at the nation, following him just as fast as he was. The trees blurred around him as he went on, with the dwindling hopes of tiring the creature out and figuring out who it was. However, it had the opposite affect when his feet began to ache with every jump, and his breathing quickened to the point of panting.

The nation's mind clicked, and he began to search for his wand in his cloak, fumbling with the black fabric and the pockets while simultaneously dashing around the clearing, evading the attacks of the madman. He came to a halt by a tree and rolled behind it, ignoring the uncomfortable roots and bushes and twigs and dried leaves digging into his skin that wasn't entirely covered up with his clothes. The trunk glowed green and withered behind him, but the dead tree was still big enough to shield him from attacks, for now. Gasping, his heart pounding, he thoroughly groped around his cloak for the damned wand, knowing that he only had a few seconds before the figure reached him and began attacking again.

He then remembered he had left it in Norway's room when practicing magic a few hours ago.

Romania's heart surged when a curse hit the ground a millimetre away from his foot. In his haste to get up and run, he stumbled backwards, panic taken hold of him before he could think. He felt his foot get caught up on the tree's root, and before he knew it, the sky was falling down, his vision blurred, and his crashed on the earth, feeling the pain hit him in the back with a low thud. Before he could move further, the green light shot into the field of his vision.

Intense pain hit him on the shoulder, traveling to his neck and down his torso, coursing through his body. His vision blackened, all noise and movement around him seemed to stop, and he heard nothing but the ringing in his ears and the rapid thumping of his own heart as he tried his hardest to stay awake, his head throbbing. He tried to get up, but it only resulted in his arms weakly falling to his side as he felt the pain again, this time right on his head.

Something fell out of his cloak.

Without thinking, he picked up the small round object and threw it at the attacker. Bright light and colours blinded him, and explosions stung his ear. He screamed when the curse was shot at him one more time, his vision blackening completely and his entire body burning. Then there were sudden rapid footsteps, rustling in the trees and running further and further away.

* * *

 **A/N: Bah! This fic is all over the place and not organized or even planned at all and it's bothering me. But hey, this is my first fic, and it's practice for more to come. I guess I should just relax and let the story happen. (I still don't like it though lmao) But it's almost done! I think. So yeh. Don't look forward to the ending.**

 **But here it is! The next chapter in this terrible fanfic that I created on a whim one day! It's a bit rushed in some places. I really want to get this out before my finals so I can relax and study. Because not updating for a long time makes me anxious lmao**

 **Ok, but to clear things up a bit since people are always telling me to stop hating on my own work. I don't hate it. I'm proud to have gotten this far in my writing. It's just that it can be improved. It can still be better than it is, and in my quest to strive for the better, I tend to say that I suck XD**

 **If you have any questions about the story or suggestions or constructive criticism, feel free to tell me! As long as you don't just blatantly insult me and actually tell me how to improve lol. Also, thank you so much for your reviews and favourites and follows! :D Every bit of feedback helps, even if it's just a one-word review, hehe. So thank you!**

 **See ya next time, in the Fic of Stolen Memes and Bad Plot!**


	19. Chapter 19

"I knew it, Hermione! Bondevik threatened Quirrell! We were right all along, he is a dark wizard working for Snape and he's going to get the Philosopher's Stone!"

"Harry, quiet!" Hermione frantically whispered to shush him, worriedly eyeing the library. "Professor Bondevik would never-"

"It's true, Hermione." Ron cut in. "I saw it happen." The redhead gulped. "He's done it. If Quirrell told him how to break Anti-Dark Force Spell-"

Hermione looked distraught. "I know we suspected him of hiding something, but Snape-"

"Snape may just hate me, Hermione." Harry insisted. "But Bondevik..."

"There's still Fluffy though, right?"

"I don't know, Hermione, you might be able to find books about how to get pass giant three-headed dogs somewhere here." A hint of excitement flashed across Ron's eyes. "So what's the plan?"

"Go to Dumbledore." Hermione said instantly. "We should have done that since the beginning. We shouldn't have meddled in problems that don't concern us. We should've let Dumbledore handle it."

"But it's too late now, Hermione." Harry pointed us. "We're not even supposed to know about Fluffy or the Stone in the first place. Quirrell's too scared to back us up, Snape hates us and Dumbledore would believe him more than he'd believe us, and the less students in the school the easier Filch's job gets. Plus, Bondevik's got his whole team of dark wizards, doesn't he? I mean, I'm a little iffy when it comes to Gilbert, but there has always been something off about Vlad's eyes, and that bloke Scot has that weird aura around him."

"You noticed it too?" Hermione blinked. "The thing about Scot, I mean. I feel like I've seen him somewhere before, but I don't remember..."

"In a book, probably." Ron tapped his chin. "Remember that one with a list of Voldemort's supporters? The Scot guy seems like a Slytherin..."

"Whatever." Hermione sighed. "I don't want to be in any more of this. Dumbledore's not going to believe us, it's best if we leave the matter be. Besides, we might be wrong."

"It's risky to just leave it be." Ron protested. "If we just poke around a bit-"

"I'm done enough of poking around." Hermione said flatly. "Exams are coming up, you boys better study."

Ron and Harry shared a look, with Ron's shoulders hunching in defeat. Harry forced himself to sit down and pull out a map of Jupiter, Professor Quirrell's scared, frantic whimpers never leaving his mind.

* * *

Finland woke up to the deafening roars of explosions.

At first he thought it was just his imagination, but the flashes of bright, colourful lights that came through the window and illuminated the room in a ghostly flickering glow were very much real. He thought of sinking back into his pillow and staying safely in the comforts of his bed, but the curiosity got the better of him. With his heart in his throat, Finland crept to the window and cautiously peaked out into the night sky. The explosions erupted from the Forbidden Forest, and were subsiding by the minute. After about ten seconds or so, the frenzy of sparks were completely gone, just as fast as they came.

Finland took a step back from the window, whimpering with fear. He rushed to wake up Sweden, but after a solid thirty seconds of frantic shaking, the Swede didn't budge, deep in sleep. Gritting his teeth, he desperately went for Iceland, who was curled up in his bed with his book in tight grip. After a bit of whisper-shouting and gentle slaps on the face, the boy finally groaned and groggily opened one eye. Putting a finger over his lips to shush Iceland, Finland grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up, much to Iceland's silent protests.

They exited the room with only a candle in Finland's hand and Iceland's wand, the candlelight casting ghostly shadows that flicker on the wall and imitate their every step. Quietly they walk pass the common room, the flames in the fireplace replaced with bright red smouldering coal. Iceland gave Finland a questioning look when they headed out the Hufflepuff common room and descended down the stairs into the hallway. The Finnish nation simply shook his head as a way of saying 'I'll tell you later'.

The hallways were quiet and empty, with the moonlight dimly lighting the nations' path. Quickly blowing out his candle, Finland hid amongst the shadows, motioning to Iceland to do the same. They crept through the halls, ears open for the slightest noises, eyes scanning the area before passing any doors, making sure their footsteps aren't audible for normal human ears as they descended down another flight of stairs. It only took the nations a few minutes to reach the main entrance.

A cool breeze hit Finland's face as he stepped outside into the fresh air, and he shivered, but not because of the cold. They slithered across the open field in the grass, making only the slightest rustle, with Finland protectively grabbing Iceland's hand. As they neared the edge of the forest, one of Finland's pistols began materializing in his hand, just in case they got caught, for the bigger guns would have taken longer to dematerialize. Iceland, sensing the danger within the depths of the Forest, held his wand closer to his chest, gripping tightly.

No leaves rustled as they stepped through the bushes and the bracken. The eerie silence caused Finland to gulp, and even Iceland, who was now wide awake, stood alerted with his wand ready. Strange silvery liquid that Finland has never seen before dripped from the leaves and the grass all around them, all leading to one common direction. Something about the unfamiliar liquid smelled wrong. Something metallic. Blood.

A sudden crinkling in the grass made both of the nations stop dead in their tracks. Finland's grip on Iceland hand became tighter as they froze in place, not daring to turn their heads as their eyes darted left and right. Nothing but the usual trees and bushes, and there was no-one in sight. Finland's grip on Iceland's hand loosened slightly, but now he was alerted as they began walking again, this time slower and much more quieter.

Finland's gut told him to turn back and just run, but he kept his guard up and his breath steady, for he wasn't going to let Iceland see him, an older, more experienced, and overall stronger nation, as a coward. The blood trail was all over the place, as if whatever creature that left it has been thrashing around in pain for quite some time. A chill went up Finland's spine as he and Iceland emerged in a clearing, where a massive pool of the silver blood lay.

Next to him, Iceland placed his hand over his mouth. In the middle of the pool of blood lay a ghostly white horse, the blood splattered all over its misshapen body. Finland swore he saw a horn on its head. The ground and plants around around it was all black and withered in large spots.

Finland suddenly felt Iceland clutching his hand. He followed the younger Nordic's finger to a tree, burnt and dead, in the edge of the clearing. At first, Finland was confused, but the more he looked the more that one burnt bit of the tree looked like a boot...

Iceland broke free from Finland's iron grip and hurried over to the tree, and Finland, after recovering from shock, was not far behind. Iceland's eyes widened, and he gaped, pointing a shaking finger at what was behind the tree. Finland's shoulders tensed up as his speed slowed down, breath caught in his throat.

"R-romania?"

His eyes were closed, his limp body against the tree trunk in a curled up, almost scared position. His lips were parted, and his face held an indescribable tiredness and a hint of terror. Thankfully, and Finland allowed himself to breathe, Romania had no visible injuries, and seemed to be just fine, physically.

"Hey." Iceland whispered to Finland, shattering the perfect silence. "Do you think he's okay?"

Finland didn't respond. Of course, he thought to himself. Romania was fine, he wasn't hurt, and he was probably just cold by the way he leaned against the tree hugging himself. Despite the fact that there was a bloody horse corpse in a field of wilted plants around him, the vampire didn't have a scratch on him at all. Finland almost laughed to himself. Oh, Romania...that guy, he could sleep through anything, doesn't he?

But all that came out of his mouth was a low, hoarse whisper. "Vampires don't sleep at night."

Iceland's troubled expression was barely readable. "Do you think he..."

"No, he probably didn't kill a horse." Finland's voice was hardly audible. "Vampires don't kill their prey."

"No, I mean..." Iceland paused, as if trying to find the right words. "Whatever killed the unicorn...did this to him too."

"Did what? He's fine."

"Finland." Iceland silenced the Finnish nation, turning to him, his violet eyes dark as his frown deepened. "Prussia also turned up unscathed."

Finland felt his blood turn cold.

"Ice," he whispered, feeling a sudden shiver up his spine. Someone was watching them. "Ice, we need to get out of here."

Iceland just stared. Finland's hands began trembling."Ice, we need to carry Ro- Vlad, quick-"

Leaves crinkled from behind them, as footsteps lightly touched the earthy forest floor, swiftly but quietly, approaching them. Finland's shoulders tensed up as he scrambles over to Romania, demateralizing his gun, and effortlessly heaving up the vampire despite his tiny frame. The footsteps became louder. Finland turned and hopped in the opposite direction, not caring about the fact that he was heading deeper into the forest. His fingers barely managed to get a grip on Iceland's wrists, and he forcibly dragged the boy with him, determined to get away from the footsteps. There were two pairs, both identical, and despite being light Finland felt them clearly pounding on the ground. He could not recognize who it was.

"Halt."

Finland froze.

The two pairs of footsteps got closer, poised and careful. Iceland turned and stared at Finland, eyes wide. Finland heaved a shaky breath, forcing himself to slowly turn and face whoever was there. He took a step back, more in shock than terror, when he saw the figure of a palomino horse towering over him, but instead of a head it was half of a man's body. Iceland just blinked, gaping. Finland could feel Iceland's hand, frozen in fear, grab his arm, while his other arm dropped Romania. The nation's limp body tumbled to the ground with a thud, dust erupting from the forest floor.

The centaur narrowed his pale sapphire eyes, his frown deepening. "What are you doing here?"

The only things Finland could muster was an incomprehensible splutter.

The centaur's eyes locked into their for a moment, deep in thought. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, and just stands there, observing the two nations with curious eyes. Finally, he spoke, directly to Iceland.

"You're Lukas's brother, aren't you?"

Iceland blinked in surprised. He hesitated, but soon managed to stutter, "Y-yes..."

The centaur's mouth thinned as he tore his eyes from Iceland, gazing at the stars in deep concentration."Your friends are here."

Iceland furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Excuse me?"

The centaur seemed to ignore him. "The Forest is not safe, especially not now." He returned his eyes to the nations. "It is best you leave, soon as possible." He paused. "You can get back to the castle safely on your own, I believe?"

Iceland and Finland exchanged looks. Finally, they looked back at the centaur and nodded, still slightly confused. Hurriedly picking up Romania, Finland began scrambling away as fast as he can, gracefully leaping over tree roots and bushes. Iceland began following the older nation, but gave one last glance back at the centaur and the unicorn's corpse, once again feeling a shiver down his spine upon seeing the horrid sight.

The centaur gave him an expecting look. Iceland hastily tore his eyes away, stumbling across the forest floor after Finland. He felt the centaur's eyes bore into him as he went.

"Good luck, Snæland, Suomi." It was barely a whisper. "I have read the stars wrongly before, and I hope this is one of those times. May we meet again."

* * *

"Good job, Gil!"

Prussia smiled, a small, modest and triumphant smile as Denmark clapped, grinning at the finished jigsaw puzzle that lay across the albino's lap. Prussia's condition has gotten considerably better after a few (cleverly disguised) cans of beer, and now he was feeling well enough to do a few basic brain exercises, much to Denmark's glee. He wasn't quite normal, still pretty quiet, but hey, progress is progress. Denmark felt like a proud mother, celebrating every little accomplishment, patting Prussia on the back, giving him a confident thumbs-up every now and then. "Now, here, Gil," He urged, "Try solving this rubik's cube..."

Just as Prussia took another sip of beer from the can and eagerly took the puzzle, the hospital door once again swung open, revealing a very bedraggled Scotland who looked ready to collapse. Denmark could only guess that the nation hadn't slept in quite a while. Scotland glared at the blond, his red eyes complete with dark bags underneath, as his mouth twitches into a frown. Denmark shuddered.

"Y-yeah? Hi, Scot?"

"Your exams." Scotland grumbled, waving his hand. "They're starting soon, in a couple hours, and you look look all nice and healthy so you better study."

"But Scooooot!" Denmark whined. "It's like, what, midnight? I need my rest, man."

"Well if you need rest," Scotland growled, "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Denmark clamped his mouth shut. Whistling, he twirled his arms and gracefully hopped back into his bed like a ballerina, pulling the blanket over his face. After that, all that was audible in the room was a series of loud fake snores. Scotland rolled his eyes, while Prussia just blinked at him, confused, before going back to his rubik's cube, happily whistling.

The Scottish nation sighed, sinking all his weight into Denmark's chair by Prussia's bed, before groaning and massaging his temples. It was hopeless. After traveling around the entirety of the UK with Norway, speaking to several suspicious information dealers in dark alleyways and the small amount of dark wizards and witches scattered around the country, they turned up empty-handed. No-one knew how to cure Prussia's curse (what did they expect, this _was_ the Killing Curse) so they figured they'd just have to wait for it to wear off. And on top of that, no sign of the G8 either, though Scotland was 100% sure they were somewhere in the country, for he could still sense their weak energy signals.

Prussia moved, startling Scotland out of his thoughts. The fallen nation had put down his rubik's cube and had wiggled his way out of the blankets. Swinging his tiny legs, he hopped out of the bed and scurried across the room to one of the large windows. He then pointed outside, looking back at Scotland expectantly, opening his mouth as if to say something. Scotland craned his neck. He couldn't see anything outside from where he was sitting, so he sighed, for the millionth time that day.

"It's probably nothing, Pr-" He stopped, noticing Madam Pomfrey attending to one of the other students a few metres away. "It's nothing, Gilbert. Get back to bed."

Prussia huffed, pouting stubbornly and puffing out his cheeks, and pointed out the window again.

Scotland raised an eyebrow and hobbled to the window, just to prove Prussia wrong. "See, Gil, there's nothing out there-"

Scotland stopped himself. "Ice- Emil and Tino?! What are they doing outside at midnight?"

Madam Pomfrey stopped whatever she was doing and looked up. "Excuse me?"

"What...the... _fuck_..." Scotland, more confused than anything, watched the two boys emerge from the darkness of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. The nation could clearly see the fear in Finland's eyes, and Iceland looked like he was about to throw up. In Finland's arms was the limp body of _Romania_ , while Iceland held one of the Finnish nation's pistols in shaky hands. Just then, the slim figure of Professor McGonagall slipped out of the castle entrance, with her wand out and ready. Spotting the boys, she quickly rushed to them, yelling. Scotland could only watch as she began screaming at them, and yanking the gun from the frantic Iceland's hands before screaming some more. She then grabbed both their arms, pulling them with her, and the two nations and the witch disappeared into the building, away from Scotland's view from the window.

Denmark, from his bed, opened one eye. "What's happening?"

Scotland massaged his forehead. "Fin and Ice. They were outside an Fin was carrying Ro- Vlad."

Denmark stopped. "...What happened to Vlad?"

Scotland's frown deepened. "I don't know, but he doesn't look good. I'm going out to check, you stay here, don't let Gilbert do anything stupid."

"But-"

Scotland had already hurried off, not even bothering to shut the door.

He found the three nations huddled together with Professor McGonagall by the entrance, shrinking into the wall as she screamed at them, all the while frantically searching around Romania's body. He appeared to be fine, but if there was something that Scotland had learned in the past centuries of his existence, nothing was ever fine.

Professor McGonagall stopped when Scotland rushed in. She frowned at him, not bothering to hide her fury, while Finland looked slightly more relieved - though Iceland's eyebrows furrowed even more. Without hesitating. Scotland effortlessly lifted Romania up, and together, without hesitation, they rushed to the Hospital Wing, with Finland and Iceland quickly gave them explanations on what had happened. Professor McGonagall's expression grew grimmer.

It was when they were halfway there that Scotland realized that the Hospital Wing won't help. Taking a sudden turn away from the Hospital and ignoring the confused, angry glares that McGonagall gave him, he sprinted to Norway's office, holding his breath.

Norway wasn't quite happy when Scotland barged into his office, but nevertheless he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and immediately began to examine Romania's body. They all held their breaths as they watched Norway inspect every inch, his frown deepening by the moment. It was when Professor McGonagall volunteered to go alert Dumbledore that the nations finally got privacy in the room. Norway stood up, grimly whispering,

"Don't tell the rest just yet. But he'll heal in a few hours, don't worry. The damage isn't as bad as Prussia's, so he'd only been curse for a few moments."

"...What is it?" Scotland was almost too afraid to ask, for in the back of his mind that he already knew the answer.

Norway was silent for a moment. "Killing curse."

* * *

"Well, in any case, we should at least visit Gilbert at the hospital wing." Harry insisted the next morning. "I definitely don't trust Bondevik, but I believe Gil is innocent."

Hermione sighed, putting down her revision paper. "Harry, we have exams to pass, can't you wait?"

Ron jumped up, determined to get himself out of the hellhole which Hermione called studying. "Count me in!"

"Ron-"

"Come on, 'Mione!" Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It's only for a few minutes. The exams are in like half an hour, what's the rush?"

Hermione gave him a glare. "Then why don't you go on ahead, and I'll catch up later once I'm done studying."

"She'll never be done studying." Ron mumbled to Harry, who snickered, as they headed out the common room and began their journey to the Hospital Wing, for the millionth time that year.

"I wonder if they'll still get to stay in the school next year?" Harry wondered aloud. "Mathias and Gilbert, I mean. They're missing quite a lot of classes."

"A lot." Ron agreed. "Well, who knows. We'll just have to see. Maybe Dumbledore'll be nice enough this year."

They entered the Hospital Wing, with Harry darting his eyes around the room to make sure Bondevik wasn't there. He was starting to become uncomfortable to be in the same room as the strange man with the muggle hat, after the whole Professer Quirrell incident. At least Snape made it obvious that he hated Harry - Bondevik was just hard to read.

"Oh, morning!" Mathias grinned at them as usual, waving his hand. He had his cloak on, fully ironed, and was putting quills and books into his bag. Beside him sat Gilbert, who was...reading, and sipping from his muggle can, though Harry couldn't quite make out what the drink was.

"Hiya, Mathias." Ron greeted, also smiling. "I see that Gilbert's feeling better?"

"Yup!" Mathias chirped proudly. "Right, Gil?"

"Huh?" Gilbert looked up from his book. "Oh, hi, Ron. Hi Harry."

"Gilbert!" Harry cheerfully saluted. "How are ya, buddy?"

The albino's lips twisted into a small smile. "The Awesome Me's doing fine. It's just that my head hurts a bit, and I can't remember. Anything." He scrunched up his nose in annoyance. "And Den won't let me leave the Hospital Wing."

Harry laughed. Yep, this was the Gilbert he knew

"Anyways..." Mathias smiled, suddenly clapping his hands together. "Oh, by the way! Me and Gil are gonna take exams with you guys today!"

"Really?" Harry beamed. "That's great!"

"Yup!" Mathias chirped.

"Wait, but Mathias," Ron cut in, "You missed a bunch of lessons, how are you going to take the exam?"

"Yeah, well, I wasn't able to study that much when I was unconscious, but Nor kinda made me study almost as soon as I woke up, so I really had no choice..."

Hearing Mathias utter Professor Bondevik's nickname so casually sent a shiver down Harry's spine. Professor Bondevik was _heartless_ , Harry realized. Making a sickened student study, forcing Mathias to do things he didn't want to, being violent to a _child_. Just thinking about the smiles Mathias faked all the time made Harry sick in the stomach. Was it possible that Mathias was innocent too?

Gilbert nodded. "Ya know, I should ask Nor if I could leave the Hospital Wing to take it too..." He shrugs "Haven't studied, but the Awesome Me never fails."

"Welp," Mathias chirped, clapping his hands. "I better get studying, and I need to like, focus and stuff, so...see you guys in a bit?"

Harry nodded, though he could barely hear the words. Ron merrily waved goodbye as he grabbed Harry's wrist and seemed to drag him out the door, maybe a little too fast for Harry's liking. Once they were far enough from the Hospital Wing that Harry was sure Mathias can't hear them, Ron leaned in and whispered into his ear.

"Harry, the thing about Mathias and Bondevik-"

"Mathias is innocent and Bondevik's using him?"

"Keep it down," Ron shushed. "And Gilbert-"

"Innocent too."

"Can you just let me talk?" Ron huffed. Harry clamped his mouth shut.

"Okay, I know there's no solid evidence or whatever, but..." Ron took a deep breath. "Okay, so you know how Bondevik lied to cover up Gilbert's disappearance?"

"Yeah."

"He may be the cause of the disappearance-"

"We've gone over this."

"No no, let me finish." Ron's eyes darted around to make sure no-one else was listening. Provided that they had gotten up early that day, few people were wandering around the castle. "Okay, Harry, so my theory is that, since Bondevik's controlling everyone, or at least using them to get the Philosopher's Stone, Gilbert, whenever it was, tried to rebel against Bondevik." Harry opened his mouth to talk, but Ron put his finger over the raven's lips. "And, okay, have you noticed how Bondevik keeps hitting Vlad? I recon that he, too, is working for Bondevik, though against his own will."

"Ron, where are you going with this?" The theory sounded ridiculous. But after all the ridiculousness that had happened that year, Harry found it easy to believe.

"Harry, Gilbert and Mathias, possibly the Hufflepuffs too - they're here only so that Bondevik can be here. Bondevik needs someone to try to help him find the Philosopher's Stone, and someone to blame it on when it goes wrong. Gilbert wanders around late at night because of that, to find the Stone! Even after getting caught, he deeps doing it! Why? Because Bondevik forces him to!"

"Ron, this all sounds reasonable, but we can't get ourselves into more trouble, plus we have no solid evidence, and we have to consult Hermion-"

Harry was ignored. "And, and, he wants Mathias to study, when all else fails, Mathias can still help him next year! And to do that he has to pass the exams!" Ron stopped to breathe, raising his head up again to look around, for his voice got louder with each sentence. "And...and Vlad, too, is now in bed, possibly from the same spell as Gilbert! So, I think, Vlad, too, tried to rebel! And both he and Gilbert failed!" The redhead hesitated to explain the next part of his theory. "And, don't you think that Mathias seems...off today? Like he was faking his emotions more than usual. I think he's planning something, Harry."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Planning something? Planning what? You mean..."

"Yes, planning to do whatever Gilbert and Vlad can't do, Harry."

"Ron-"

"And when Bondevik finds out, if he hadn't yet," Ron paused. "Harry, he's going after Mathias next."

* * *

"I can't believe they're letting you take it!" Denmark laughs, patting Gilbert's back as they made their way to the exam room, with quills and books and revision sheets in hand, for Prussia to study mere seconds before exams begun. The albino's hair was matted and stuck up in all directions, his red eyes dull, and Gilbird perched on his head, feathers ruffled and messy. And yet he stood tall (or as tall as he could in his 11-year-old body) and held his head high, smiling and cheerfully waving at a ghost as he passed him. After a second a dozen more ghosts appeared, swarming around Gilbert and asking how he's been. The albino politely answered and excused himself from the group, grabbing Denmark's wrist and hurrying away.

"Huh, what's that all about?" Denmark whispered once they were out of earshot of the ghosts, though he could still feel the paintings' stares behind his back. "Ya seem to be popular, Gil."

"Yeah. The ghosts and I, we have so much in common." The fallen nation rolled his eyes. Denmark snorted.

"Well, as long as they don't know-"

"They know."

"..."

"Or they think they know." Prussia said quickly after seeing the horrified look on Denmark's face. "I mean, they kinda figured out that I was...ya know...dead, and all that."

"What do you mean?" Denmark's voice suddenly became deeper and grimmer. Prussia almost shivered. Almost.

Prussia lowered his voice to no more than a whisper, so soft that not even the nearby paintings would have caught a word. "They think I'm some sort of ghost, just like them. Ya know, like I'm a ghost child in disguise or something. And they haven't figured the whole nation thing yet, don't worry."

"Oh." Denmark's shoulders didn't relax. Prussia sighed.

"Look, even I'm a bit scared, but I know these ghosts are too nice to do anything..." He trailed off when Denmark perked up. A familiar bushy-haired girl had appeared from around a corner across the hallway, hastily speeding across the room while hauling her bags and a ton of books that is impossible for a small 11-year-old girl like her to carry, but she carries them anyway because she's Hermione fucking Granger. Denmark groaned, massaging his temples.

"Look, Prussia, we'll...talk about this with Nor later, just...be careful next time, okay?" Denmark took a deep breath, sparing a glance at Hermione, who was coming closer. "Look, I care about you and my family and the last thing we need is people finding out who we really are." The Dane grabbed the Prussian's shoulder and they stared into each other's eyes intently, unblinking. Finally, Prussia sighed and nodded, brushing Denmark's hand off his shoulder with a slight frown on his thin lips. Hermione finally spotted them from a distance and waved. Denmark plastered on his usual fake smile and greeted the girl warmly.

"Hello, boys!" She was breathless, her arms shaking under the weight of the books. Without asking, Prussia grabbed them all off her hands, giving her a wide grin. Hermione smiled gratefully, still breathing heavily, and adjusted her bag on her shoulder with trembling fingers. Denmark snorted and rolled his eyes.

"T-thanks, Gilbert." Hermione sighed, wiping her brow. "That was a lot of work to carry down the Gryffindor tower-"

Prussia grinned. "Must have been. I can handle it though." Just to show that he can, he shifted his shoulders and raised the pile of books up just a little higher, until they reached his nose. Hermione giggled. The albino, in turn, chuckled, for Hermione's laugh had reminded him of Hungary and how much he missed her. He should call her sometime, but he was sure she was busy...

"Whoa - guys, sorry we're late-" Suddenly, Harry was behind Hermione, bending over and panting, sweating like a madman. His bag had slipped off his shoulder and onto the floor, while his glasses were crooked. Ron, too, was standing there, in as much a mess as Harry was, his messy hair even messier as he looked like he was about to die from lack of oxygen. Hermione raised her eyebrows as Denmark and Prussia just kind of stood there blinking.

"See?" Hermione huffed, crossing her arms. "I _told_ you specifically to pack your wand, and what did you do? You _forgot_ them in the Tower."

Ron coughed, waving his hands dismissively. "Oh, bugger off, Hermione. We're having our exam any minute now, and you're _still_ going to read those books?"

"Hmph." Hermione turned up her nose and casually picked one of the books from the pile in Gilbert's arms. "As a matter of fact I am. A few minutes is quite enough to revise the chapter." And with that she stormed off, heading towards the exam room with her book open. It was a miracle she didn't bump into anyone.

"Hey." Prussia called after her. "Hey! Where do you want me to put these?" Hermione was too far away to hear him. Irritated, Prussia groaned, and begun hurrying after her, stumbling and losing his balance quite a few times due to the weight of the books. Damn this stupid body. Damn that stupid Hunga- Hermione. "Hey! Bushy brows! Your books! You forgot your goddamn books!"

Denmark just sighed as he watched his albino friend disappear into the distance, calling out to the hot-headed Hermione. Finally, Harry and Ron were able to catch their breaths, and they stood up a little straighter, drained of energy, and held up their wands in triumph. Nodding to the direction of their exam room, Denmark picked up Harry's bag for him and the three proceeded to the exam room in an uncomfortable silence. Denmark ignore the strange look of worry and fear in Harry's and Ron's eyes as they stared at him all the way; being a nation, it was pretty normal and almost unnoticeable at this point.

After a bit, Ron waved goodbye and entered an exam room, different from the one Harry and Ron had to go to. The Houses, Denmark heard, were all mixed in the exams rather than having them separately or two houses at a time like in the lessons. He remembered Norway telling the nations that they will be in the same exam room so it will be easier to keep an eye on them. Iceland wasn't hot on the idea of being treated like a child, but Denmark was just relieved that he got to be with his friends. Fortunately, as Norway had told him when he asked, Malfoy was taking his exam in another room, the same room as Dean and Seamus and Ron were taking their tests. So Denmark didn't have to deal with that jerk, and he will be forever grateful.

In the exam room, Finland had made himself comfortable with Sweden, and was now chatting and giggling and holding hands like the happy couple they are. They received sneers from the Slytherins, who quickly turned away when Sweden raised an eyebrow and gave them a threatening look. Good ol' Sweden.

Meanwhile, Prussia had seated himself next to Iceland, who was wary and tired, the bags under his eyes darker than ever. He was slumped in his chair with his head on the table, his eyes barely open as he watched the albino next to him sit quietly and stare at his hands. Iceland's usually neat silver hair was sticking up all over the place, as if he had been pulling his own hair out of frustration. Iceland, like Finland, had gotten detention for what they did last night. But they were immediately sent to bed, around midnight, so Denmark couldn't see why he would look this bad. Maybe Iceland had continued staying up anyway,to study, maybe, and that explained the hair. Shrugging it off as the boy's determination, Denmark hastily took a seat next to Harry, on the other side of the room.

"So...Norway still hadn't found a way to reverse that memory-erasing spell?" Denmark heard the youngest Nordic croak, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper, though it was hard to tell whether it was from exhaustion or so that people won't hear. Prussia shook his head in response. A strange glimmer of hope flashed through Iceland's eyes, but it was gone just as soon as it came, and he returned to his half-awake state, staring at nothing.

Denmark sighed. "Well, Norge's gotta find it soon." He scratched the back of his head. "We really need to find out who did it and why."

"Yes." Finland, who was sitting in front of Iceland, chirped. "We still need to understand the whole 'West' thing."

"What 'West' thing?" Prussia perked up upon hearing the word. Iceland heaved a long sigh.

"Wow, you even forgot that." He groaned. "You were whispering Germany's nickname quite a lot while you were in the hospital."

"Huh." Prussia furrowed his eyebrows. "Did I?"

"Well, back then your brain was pretty messed up, maybe you were hallucinating." Finland shrugged, almost reassuringly. "Hey, you're better now, and that's all that matters, right?"

Prussia was silent for a while. "I guess you're right. Ya know, at least I'm fine and healthy again. At least I'm not," He paused for dramatic effect. "Dead."

The Nordics shared a laugh. Denmark, too, snickered, earning him strange glances from the people around him. It then occurred to him that having a conversation with his friends from the other side of the room without yelling was probably weird, so he just cleared his throat and went back to twiddling his thumbs absentmindedly while still listening to what Finland was saying. But the serious conversation had faded and shifted into casual chat, so there really wasn't anything important to listen to anyway.

It was then that Norway stepped into the room, locking the door behind him. Looking just as bedraggled as Iceland, the poor nation had probably stayed up all night trying to figure out what had happened to Prussia as well as finding their missing friends. Seeing Norway stumble across the room unsteadily made Denmark want to run up to hug him right that moment, but unfortunately the exams were just about to start. Seeing the entrance of the assistant teacher, the students' chatter began to quiet down. Once it was quiet in the classroom, Norway cleared his throat and checked a piece of parchment in his hand.

"I'll be your examiner for this test." The wizard expertly flicked his wand, and parchment, quills, and paper appeared in front of each person. "All the items you will need for this test are right there on your desk. If you have any other belongings kindly leave them outside." He paused, glancing up from the piece of parchment and eyed each and every one of the students with an cold stare, and, Denmark noticed with a snort, made Harry shiver. "Any attempts at cheating will be futile." The Nordic nation glanced at his watch, waiting for the few seconds to tick by. "And...you may begin."

Denmark's eyes immediately went to the test, and upon reading the first question he blinked, eyes glued on the page. He didn't know the answer. Gulping, he moved on to the next question, he'll just skip that first one and do the other ones! _Crap_. He tried the next one. He couldn't even understand the question. The blond was beginning to sweat. _Come on, now. You're a powerful, experienced nation that has lived for centuries, you can answer this one test_. Looking up from his paper, he saw that the people around him were answering the questions with ease. Hermione was already on the second page. After catching Norge's eye for a second, he went back to reading the test. _Fuck. This is what you get for staying in the hospital for too long, stupid!_

After a few minutes of panicking and arguing with himself about the impossibility of him being stupid, Denmark just gave up and wrote whatever random answer that came to his mind, even answering some of the questions with another question. Hey, if you put something on the page, you could at least say you tried.

The blond stopped what he was doing when he heard clicking on the door. Someone was trying to open it, but to no avail. Then there was the sound of flapping wings, and Mr. Puffin began screaming about how locked the door was, his shrill voice muffled by the walls, not loud enough for a normal person to notice unless they listened really close and was paying special attention - which they weren't. Snickering, the nation went back to his test. Mr. Puffin was probably just lonely and wanted to see Iceland.

The test continued on in silence. Harry, to his relief, was able to answer at least most of the questions, while with others he just guessed. He could just imagine Hermione's voice ringing in his ear, reading out the answers to him in her usual miss-know-it-all lecturing tone that made it sound like she was scolding him rather than teaching. It was a humorous thought, and it kept Harry entertained until he entered the next page. By then it just started to become annoying.

He glanced up from his page. Bondevik was sitting in his chair, observing the students calmly. Just seeing the professor sent a shiver down Harry's spine. He and Ron were yet to sit down and have a serious conversation about it with Hermione, but he hope she'd agree to do something about it soon, because Bondevik was really getting on his nerves. The professor's icy, dull eyes kept wandering back to Emil and the rest of their group, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if Emil really was his brother. After all, Emil himself had claimed that they weren't...

Harry's thoughts was interrupted by a knocking sound from the door. It was a light tapping at first, and only audible because the room was so quiet. Bondevik seemed to have acknowledged it, but didn't answer it for the sake of not interrupting the exam, Harry assumed. But after a few moments the knocking became louder and louder, breaking Hermione's concentration and making her look up from her test, annoyed. Soon, most, if not all the students just stopped what they were doing and exchanged glances as the knocking became even louder, almost like banging. Some students began whispering to each other, while others just stared at the door with wide eyes. The banging still became louder. Harry gaped, seeing the door shake, and the horrible screech of metal grinding against each other made Harry cringe. He then watched in horror as the hinges began to break.

There was a deafening crash as the door flew clear off its hinges, slamming to the floor. The ground thundered, and Bondevik stared at the door with wide eyes. The room became eerily still and silent. Harry's heart stopped.

There, standing over the door breathing heavily and grunting maliciously, was a _troll_.

It was different from the first one he and his friends had fought in the bathroom on Halloween. This one had more human-like features, with a chiseled chin and sharp teeth, bulgy muscles, and long, slick hair the flowed in the wind. Perhaps the most striking part of all were its eyes - unlike the other troll's stupid blinking eyes, these was empty and unreadable, yet held a fierce, unburning flame. They were old with experience and wisdom, and were easy to get lost in if you stared too deeply. _These eyes - they are just like Bondevik's_.

The deathly silence continued for a while as everyone held their breaths, frozen on their chairs as they eyed the beast in the room. After a moment, the troll grunted, its eyes shifting to - and Harry felt his blood turn cold - _Bondevik_. The troll opened its mouth and let out low-pitched grunts and noises, almost as if it was _talking_. Professor Bondevik simply regarded the troll for a moment, standing tall and staring directly at the beast without a single hint of fear.

And he _talked back_.

At this point Harry were too baffled and confused to even scream. He, and all the others in the room, were paralyzed, watching this bizarre interaction between the assistant professor and the troll. They were, indeed, speaking, as if having a casual conversation. It was in a language Harry didn't understand, and it appeared that with every word Professor Bondevik's eyes became wider and wider.

The Professor then slowly turned around, facing the class. For the first time, Harry saw hints of _fear_ and _emotion_ in the usually dull blue eyes. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but then clamped it shut again. And with no further explanation, the students watched the Professor quickly swipe the wand from his desk and hurried out the door, the troll slowly tramping behind, making the ground shake with every step.

And there inside the classroom everyone sat, wide-eyed and gaping, wondering if they really had just witnessed what they did.

* * *

Norway shot through the hallways, which were, thankfully, empty due to the exams being held. He tried to ignore the sounds of footsteps from the large crowd of students that were beginning to gather in the hallway outside his classroom, he tried not to imagine the looks of utter horror or simple confusion. He slid pass suits of armor and gracefully slipped around ghosts, his footsteps light and nimble. Trying not to think about the further consequences of leaving his room unattended during an exam, and the inevitable questions about him interacting with a troll, the nation bolted out the large double doors of the Hogwart's castle, feeling the cold air hit his face.

He sprinted across the Hogwarts ground at lightning speed, his troll, who was surprisingly fast for his size, close behind. The Forbidden Forest was getting bigger and bigger as he approached it, his heart racing and the wand he was holding began to grow wet with his sweaty fingers. He shot straight into the Forest without slowing to think about disturbing the wildlife or to look at the fallen trees that the troll had shaken in its path. He slowed down, ever so slightly, and his breathing ceased enough for him to hear what his troll had told him about. And sure enough, there it was, a distant, muffled, yet very distinct scream from deep in the forest. Scotland.

The Nordic nation kept pushing forward, ignoring the sharp branches scraping at his cloak and skin. Finally, after what felt like forever, he finally reached it. A small grove of trees in the very heart of the forest, illuminated by the deep blue light from Scotland's wand. The Scottish nation had been pushed against a tree due to the momentum from his magic, and was barely able to stand. He had his teeth clenched, sweat sliding down the side of his cheeks, his eyes enraged and tired as he narrowed them, staring at the light from his wand. It was hitting a spot in the air, a metre above ground, with lightning sparking from all directions.

The spot in the air, Norway realized with horror, had an _arm_ poking out of it.

It seemed impossible. It was as if Scotland was tearing a _hole_ in the air itself, ripping into the very fabrics of the _universe_. The Nordic nation couldn't believe his eyes.

Scotland was opening up a _portal_.

It wasn't supposed to be possible. This can't be right. Not even nations were strong enough, not even-

Scotland yelled again, hissing and spitting. He was obviously using too much of his energy, and was becoming weaker and weaker by the second. The portal wasn't big enough to fit in a head, let alone a person. Norway's troll roared, backing away, before once again tearing through the forest, leaving just Norway and Scotland. Norway's arms felt limp, but he forced himself to hold up his wand and point with quivering hands. He had to help Scotland, with whatever mad plan he was coming up with this time. Focusing all his magic into his wand, and with all the effort he could, the nation pushed hard, letting out a roar as his magic and all of his energy shot into the portal.

It barely opened a crack. The arm in the portal is now flailing, and Norway gritted his teeth, feeling his muscles ache more and more with each second. Scotland looked ready to collapse. Norway began to yell again, as more magic than he could have ever imagined exploded from his wand. The portal tore open just a little more, but it was still not enough. The nations became weaker. They couldn't hold it open for much longer, they couldn't-

Another beam of light miraculously came from somewhere, tearing open the portal just a little more. Norway gasped. Romania stood next to a tree, panting and barely able to keep himself up, wiping sweat off his brow. Norway can't help but gape. After the Killing Curse...Romania managed to...

Another flash of blue shot at the portal. This time, Norway barely had enough energy left to open his eyes, but after a quick glance, he could just make out the blurry figure of...Dumbledore?

Ah, right, Dumbledore had agreed to keep an eye on Romania after what had happened last night, didn't he?

Norway could feel his vision begin to double, and his head began to spin. He could barely keep himself up, while at this point Scotland had fallen to the floor, though still keeping a steady amount of magic flowing. The portal grew, their combined magic almost making Norway blind from the light. The hand inside the portal began moving, and soon Norway could see, with what little vision he had left, a shoulder, and then a head...

The figure squeezed itself out from the tear, almost painfully, and with Norway's blurred vision all he could see was red, dripping from the figure. It just about completely got out from the portal when Scotland finally crumbled, falling to the ground. The portal fizzled to a close, and Norway himself fell to his knees, panting. His vision was blackening, the last of his strength draining, and the noises around him began to muffle, save for the beating of his heart. His head throbbed, and the nation could feel his entire body begin to collapse.

The last thing he heard was a weak croak from Romania.

"...Arthur?"

* * *

 **A/N Welp, this turned out worse than I intended**

 **It's so messy and the plot is all over the place and really nothing much happened in this chapter but**

 **Ya know what**

 **I had fun writing it**

 **And considering the fact that I'm still a beginner**

 **That's all that matters, really**

 **Sorry for the long wait btw It's just, ya know, life and all that crap  
**


	20. Chapter 20

It was as if England had simply fell from the sky.

He found him on the ground with his head down, a small puddle of blood pooling on his sides. His usual dark green uniform was replaced by a dirty brown rag, torn and red with blood. It exposed his torso - and he was so thin his ribcage was visible. He had a long series of cuts and scars that ran along his neck and back, with a few scattered about his face. There were marks on his flank - long, straight, bloodied marks. Marks that arranged themselves into a peculiar crescent. Bite marks - big, big bite marks.

His leg was gone.

There was a rustling in the bushes, right around the edge of the forest. They were there. The kids were there, and if they stepped in any closer they would smell the blood. Cursing to himself, Wales picked up the small, frail frame of his brother, feeling warm liquid seeping through his clothes, wetting his skin, making a long shudder run down his spine.

The kids crept closer, and the undeniably loud shouts of Denmark echoed through the trees.

He didn't feel like explaining to them. Not yet. He'd just hide England in his bedroom. Northern Ireland can keep an eye on him. Ireland could make up some story about how the troll had made a mistake, and there was no danger. Maybe Ireland, knowing Ireland, could convince them that it was just some strange magical mishap that made everyone fall asleep or something. No one else needed to know, until England woke up and recovered enough to want to talk.

Wales hesitated, before turning away, floo powder in hand.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the window, giving the room a nice, soft glow. The house was engulfed by sweet, comfortable silent, save for the faint flutter of paper, the soft snores of little Moldova sleeping peacefully on his bed, and the crackle of fire. Bulgaria sat by the windowsill, curled up with a blanket in his comfy armchair, a book on his lap. The weather was unusually cold today; it had been cold all week, and Bulgaria enjoyed pouring himself a nice hot cup of tea, snuggling up by the fireplace, and getting lost in a nice book. His shoulders relaxed as he breathes out the stress of the day, sinking deeper into the cushions of his armchair. Outside, he could hear the birds chirping, and the leaves rustling in the cool breeze. The nation's head fell back into the chair and he exhaled again, feeling his eyes becoming heavy.

"Hi."

Startled, Bulgaria opened his eyes, shaken wide awake, and he whipped his head towards the direction of the voice. Oh, it's just...a head...in the fireplace.

...Just a head...

...?

...juST A HEAD YEA _H JUST CASUALLY POPPING OUT FROM T **HE FIRE OH MY GOD WHAT THE FU**_

 _ **...**_

"Big brother! Big brother!" Moldova, with his floppy ridiculously oversized sleeves and his teeny little legs, excitedly hopped up and down, waving. "Hello! Hello! Hello!"

All Romania could do was unsteadily stumble out of the fire, leaning on the much smaller figure of a certain Danish nation. He gave his younger brother a weak smile, mustering up the last of his energy to open his eyes, before toppling right on Moldova's bed, already beginning to snore even before his head hit the mattress. Moldova eyed him curiously.

"Vlad's really tired." Denmark explained, chuckling at the young boy's confused expression. Though, it was hard to think of him as a young boy now, for they were about the same height. "Let him sleep, and don't bother him, alright?"

"Why is he so sleepy?" Moldova asked. "Did he read too many bedtime stories again? He falls asleep when he reads them to me."

"...Um, yes. He did." Denmark nodded along, not knowing how to respond. "He did a lot of reading and got really tired!"

"Oh, okay." Moldova looked at Bulgaria. "Did Mr. Bulgaria read too much too?"

Denmark coughed, shooting a quick glance at Bulgaria, who had let out a little squeak and promptly fainted in his armchair shortly after Romania's and Denmark's arrival. "Um...yeah...he's...asleep."

"Oh."

"Er, Moldova," Denmark shook his head, returning his attention back to the young boy. "I...have to go now. Um, you go back to sleep and wait until your brother and Bulgaria wake up, and don't wander off anywhere, alright?"

"Yessir!" Moldova eagerly puffs his chest. "I can take care of myself!"

Denmark chuckled. "Alright, alright. "I believe you. Do take care of your brother too."

"Yessir!"

"Make him some tea when he wakes up."

"Yessir!"

"Good kid." Denmark laughs. "Well then, I'll be going now."

From his pocket, the nation took out a box, an ancient handcrafted box with strange squiggly letters that Moldova can't read. Inside the box the blond took out a bit of mysterious green powder, and threw it into the fire. He yelled out a word that Moldova couldn't recognize, and the fierce red flames became a majestic shade of green. The nation jumped into the fire, the beautiful green flames swallowing him whole. And then, he was gone.

A minute later, when Moldova was trying to get into bed and Romania was hogging all of the space, he heard a small poof and the fire turned green again. A hand popped out and threw a bag of chips onto the floor. And, just as soon as it came, the hand disappeared and the fire went back to normal.

* * *

Whispering.

The ground glowed a ghastly green, the dim light illuminating the dark, grey room, casting shadows on the walls.

Whispering.

Three loan figures surrounded the light, their faces grim and hidden under the darkness.

Whispering.

The chanting grew louder, but still remained hushed murmurs that echoed through the walls, soft and low. The green light slowly began to brighten, creeping, creeping across the floor, touching and twirling around the three figures' cloaks.

Whispering.

Long green tendrils emerged from the floor, waving, shaking. Alive. They slither, across the floor, slowly, as if searching for something.

The chanting grew ever louder. The brightening light revealed sharp green eyes, dark, dim.

The whispering ceases. The light and the tendrils begin softened, dimmed, and died. Small sparks shot out from the ends of wands, falling, falling to the ground and departed with a sizzle. The chanting stops completely. The three figures' mouths curve up into a small smile, satisfied with their work.

"You know, you don't have to be that dramatic." Prussia yawned, slurping loudly from his cup of tea. Prussia, who had refused to sit on the musty, dusty floor of the ancient basement, sat on Denmark's lap, not being bothered to carry down a chair. Denmark groaned, trying to take a good sip from his cup, but to no avail, and instead got a mouthful of hair when Prussia moved his head back.

"Watch it." Denmark grumbled, pushing the German nation away. Prussia hopped up from his lap and stretched, walking over to turn on the lights.

"But it's for the aesthetic!" Wales protested, pulling his hood off. "I mean, what kind of dark wizards are we if we don't stay in unnecessarily dark and dusty spaces and speak ominously?"

"It's too dark to even read." Denmark giggled. Wales coughed and closed his spellbook, stuffing it into a pocket on his cloak.

"Yeah, but why the basement?" Prussia rolled his eyes, patting off dust from his clothes, coughing. "It's messing up my awesome shirt. And it's hard to breathe."

"Yeah, but it feels good to be in my cloak again." Ireland smiled and twirled around, letting the cloth swish on the floor. A cloud of dust covered the area. Prussia coughed again.

"Come on, let's get outa here."

"Did it work?" Finland chirped up when the British nations emerged from the abyss, up the creaky wooden staircase, followed by two sniffling kids covered in dust.

"Not as well as we hoped." Northern Ireland sighed, collapsing onto a chair. "Even with three of us, it was really hard."

"That's because you suck at magic."

Northern Ireland ignored Ireland's statement and simply massaged his head. "All we were able to do was to...'hide' their memories temporarily. That's just about how strong the spell is, or at least the one we know."

Iceland frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. "But...Norway was able to completely remove their memories. Don't you guys also have that spell?"

Wales shook his head. "Norway didn't permanently remove them. But because he practices more often, he's able to hide them for a much longer time."

Iceland's frown deepened. "So how long does your spell last, exactly?"

"Give or take a few months." Wales winked. "But I'm sure it'll be long enough until you guys leave the school and disappear from the face of the planet."

"But what if their memories return when we're still there?"

"Then you live with the constant fear that people are going to confront and/or kill you." Northern Ireland mumbled.

"But it's fine!" Wales smiled reassuringly. "It'll all be fine, you just go back to school, pretend a troll never showed up, and people would never find out!" He glances at Norway's troll and smiled. "And make sure it never happens again!"

"Wait." Ireland sits down next to Northern Ireland, resting her chin on her hand. "Don't tell me you haven't sensed it, Wales?"

"Sense...what?" Finland blinked. The playful tone in Ireland's voice had completely disappeared.

"Ah, right." Wale's smile, though still there, faltered for half a second, and his eyes grew dim. "Using a spell that messes with memories too often will cause people to develop a sort of immunity to it. Either that or we accidentally erase something important and it messes up their minds and they become crazy. Like, England level crazy."

"The immunity is especially prominent in people with stronger minds, or stronger magic." Northern Ireland narrowed his eyes. "And, well, there are a few people in that school who have resisted our spell. Dunno who, but there are some people."

Finland and Iceland visibly paled. Denmark frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned on the wall. Prussia stared down at his feet, deep in thought.

"Just...be careful, alright?"

"It hurts."

"Huh?" Everyone turned to the small albino boy, who hung his head. His thin frame began to tremble all over, and he hugged himself, hunching his shoulders. "It hurts."

"Prussia, are you okay?" Alarmed, Denmark grabbed Prussia's shoulders, which resulted to the German shivering even more, digging his fingers into his own arms. "It hurts, it hurts-"

"Hey! Prussia!" Everyone in the room crowded around the boy as his breath became more shaky and shallow and fast, and he sank to his knees. Denmark got down with him, still staring at him, wide-eyed. "Hey! What's wrong?"

Prussia curled up in a fetal position, his arms around his head. His entire body felt strangely numb, yet his head throbbed like crazy. He could hear worried shouts all around him, but they all sounded muffled and distant. The world spun and spots stained his vision, so he shut his eyes tight, trying to ignore the stinging pain that traveled from his head to the rest of his body as he let out a soft whimper. He couldn't breathe. It was too much, it hurt too much. Tears began to well up in his eyes, and he felt a sob escape from his trembling lips, his throat itchy and his voice hoarse. The worse part was his head - it felt like his veins were going to explode at any moment. He felt his body begin to heat up and ache, and it reminded him of the times he was burnt alive because of his red eyes - childhood memories he had tried to repress for centuries.

And amongst childhood memories, other memories returned.

He gasped and opened his eyes, and suddenly he was back. The stinging pain completely vanished in an instant, leaving only a strange, dull ache that radiated throughout his entire body, but it was bearable. He finally looked up, trying to regulate his shaky, shallow breathing, and saw the worried expressions of the nations around him. He was still trembling when Denmark decided that it was a good idea grab his shoulders and shake him.

"Oi, Denmark! Let go!" Denmark immediately loosened his grip on Prussia's shoulders and the albino fell back to the ground, still breathing heavily, sweat trickling down his forehead. His vision was still blurry, but his headache was completely gone, thank god.

"Prussia, are you okay?" Finland worriedly kneeled down next to Denmark. "What's wrong? Are you sick? Do you need water?"

"Ah- no- I-" Prussia slowly blinked, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths. He coughed a little, and gathered up the strength to force himself to sit up, massaging his temples. "I, uh, I mean, yes please, water would be nice..."

Finland nodded his head at Sweden, and the nation rushed to the kitchen for a glass of water. Prussia sniffed, wiping some tears from his eyes, before taking one last deep breath.

"Everything okay?" Ireland peaked over Finland's shoulder. Behind her, Wales and Northern Ireland each shared concerned glances. Iceland stood off at the side, staring at Prussia with an expressionless face.

"I...I..." Prussia closed his eyes once more, trying to gather and organize his thoughts, as all of his lost memories began to piece together. He finally opened his eyes and grimly looked up at the British nations, his mouth curved to a thin frown. "It's...Voldemort. He's back."

* * *

It was as if it had never happened.

Everyone moved on like it was nothing, and it seriously irritated Hermione to no end.

It was as if everyone had _forgotten_ about it.

But they couldn't have, right? The whole class was in chaos. People were screaming. Everyone was running. There were people, students and teachers alike, spilling out from the rooms, exams forgotten, to catch a glimpse of the gigantic green beast that had fled with their professor.

And yet, everyone else were pretending that she was crazy when she asked why they weren't doing anything about it.

It took about a good twenty minutes to calm the panicked crowd down. Professor Dumbledore himself had come in and announced to everyone that everything was okay and they should just move on. And Hermione knew people weren't convinced with the answer. There were still hushed whispers when Professor Dumbledore moved on to calm down other students. There were still worried and confused glances. There were still some kinds crying. And yet, when the Professors forced everyone back into the exam hall. When they got back to their seats, the whole room just fell silent. It was as if a switch had been turned off. Everyone, even the teachers, had suddenly gone eerily quiet, and almost immediately the students had gone back to their exam without saying a word. No muttering. No talking. No questions. The confused, panicked expressions were just...gone. Just like that.

Hermione had glanced at Harry. He was the only other person who seemed confused. But unlike Hermione, he wasn't scared or panicked. He just blinked, frowning ever so slightly, and got back to working on his exam. Hermione wanted to scream. She wanted to run and chase after the troll against Dumbledore's instructions. She wanted to yell at everyone, at anyone, to help her figure out what was going on, to give her just a little bit of information to comfort her and reassure her that she wan't in any danger. She just wanted someone to tell her that everyone was going to be okay, and everything was just a mistake, and that the troll _was_ there and she wasn't going crazy. She just wanted to know what the hell she had just witnessed.

She just wanted something.

All she got was still, stagnant silence.

It was like that all week, all the way until exams had ended. Every day, she would ask Ron and Harry about it, hoping that they could just do what they used to and come up with reasonable theories and conclusions and try to solve the issue. All she got was blank stares. Ron had asked her if she was okay, and if exam nerves had given her a headache and caused her to hallucinate. She had asked teachers. Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape. They all looked at her like she was crazy. They all had no idea what she was talking about, even though she knew they were there when it happened and they had seen it. Professor Snape had rudely dismissed her and ignored her. Right then, she wanted to scream so, so badly. But she composed herself, and asked again. She forced herself to be patient and wait for answers, no matter how frustrated she became each passing day.

But she got nothing.

Exams continued on, and Hermione was sure she had formed wrinkles on her forehead. As if worrying about the incident wasn't enough, she needed to worry about her exams as well. But every time she tried to remember the names of poisonous predatory plants, her mind would just wander back to the troll. Bondevik seemed surprised it was there, but not terrified. He didn't seem to be moved at all. He had spoken to it, just like the time during Halloween when he spoke to the other troll. Hermione was absolutely convinced that the troll that was let in during Halloween was Bondevik's work.

There were no signs of the man at all, for the whole week.

He was up to something, whatever it is. Everything was normal when she brought him up with Harry and Ron. Harry kept touching his scar and murmuring something about the Philosopher's Stone, and they had their usual talk about what Bondevik's plans might be. But whenever she tried to talk about the recent troll incident, she only received strange looks.

No one remembered the troll. No one except her.

She didn't understand anything at all, but judging by the circumstances, Bondevik was behind it. She just knew it.

When exams were over, Hermione still couldn't shake off her frustration. In fact, she had gotten worse. She was starting to rethink all of it. Maybe it was just a dream. A strange, vivid, dark, twisted dream. But, she thought to herself, it couldn't have been a dream. It felt too real. She's seen the beast, she'd felt the ground tremble under their feet as it walked, she'd felt its dark eyes bore into her for a split second before it had stomped off.

"It's just exam nerves." Ron gave his usual reply after the last exam was done. They sat outside in the courtyard, with Ron basking in the sunlight while Harry and Hermione rested in the shade of a nearby tree. A soft breeze blew, rustling the leaves. Something in the Lake moved, sending out small sprays of water that sparkled like gems. Some children laughed and talked, enjoying the weather and the feeling of freedom after exams. Owls hooted in the distance, almost drowned out by the noise of cicadas of late summer. Hermione felt a massive weight lift off her shoulders after the realization that the exams were done, and she can go back to worrying about more important things, like the Philosopher's Stone, or Hagrid's new hobby of keeping dangerous magical creatures that had any sort of resemblance to a dragon.

"Relax." Ron softly smiled and closed his eyes, sighing as the warm sun shown on his face. "It's nice outside. Exams are done, there's nothing else to worry about. I'm gonna nap." Immediately after that last statement, the redhead let out soft, peaceful snores.

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back on the tree, putting a hand on her forehead. Maybe Ron was right. Maybe she just had a really bad dream. Maybe she was just going insane.

"You alright?" Harry had turned to her, concerned. "You've been acting weird lately."

"No, it's just..." Hermione trailed off, knowing it was useless to talk about the stupid troll again. "Just...weird dreams, I guess."

"Well," Harry let out a bitter chuckle. "Is it that thing you kept talking about? With the troll during an exam?"

Hermione groaned, sinking further down. "...Yes. It's stupid, forget about it."

"Alright." Harry went silent. The two just sat there, enjoying the warmth of mid afternoon under the shade of the tree, listening to Ron's snoring. Despite the peace, Harry's mouth curved into a frown and his eyebrows furrowed. He began to stare off into the distance, absentmindedly biting a fingernail, deep in thought. His face twisted in confusion and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his cloak as his eyes narrowed even more. It was Hermione's turn to give him a strange look.

"Now...that I think about it..." He finally began to speak again, slowly, unsure of his words. "I...I think I've had the same dream...?"

Hermione immediately shot up from her slouching position and gave Harry a big, wide stare. Harry, started, almost fell backwards. "W-what?"

Hermione blinked, and seemed to compose herself again. "Oh, uh, just..." She frowns, and leans back against the tree, hugging her knees. "It's...strange how we have the same dream..."

Harry nodded. "Maybe it's just a coincidence?"

"Well, I mean..." Hermione pondered the possibility for a moment. "Nightmares could have stemmed from trauma, and we've both seen a troll before. Maybe Ron just isn't affected because he wasn't as bothered by it as we are?" She stopped herself for a second, and scrunched up her nose. "But that doesn't make sense. The dream wasn't a nightmare, it was just weird. And I wasn't deeply traumatised by it."

"Mm," Harry scratched his head, his frown deepening. "I can't remember much of it though."

"For me it was vivid. Almost as if it were real..." She trailed off, and suddenly everything was silent.

Harry shook his head. "No, of course it was a dream, it has to be. It didn't happen, no one's talking about it, no one remembers it. It's a dream," He concluded with a sigh.

"...Right." Hermione nodded. Of course it was a dream. A vivid one, sure, but it wasn't real. Yes, it wasn't real. "...Maybe I need to see Madam Pomfrey."

"Mm." Harry mumbled, and once again began to stare into the distance, seemingly ignoring the statement.

"Something wrong?"

"No, I mean, yes, no, I mean, uh..." Harry shook his head, putting his hand on his forehead. "My scar's been hurting a lot lately, and I don't understand why."

"Well, you can come to the Hospital Wing with me."

"No, it's...I don't think that'll help." Harry touched his scar again and winced. "I don't think it's any physical damage. Like, it's not a headache, I don't think. It just..stings, sometimes. And I keep having these nightmares. I mean, I had a dream about the troll once, but the nightmares were terrible. I keep seeing Voldemort, and sometimes Snape's there, and Bondevik..." He shuddered and cut himself off, avoiding eye contact with Hermione.

"Ah..."

The conversation trailed off once again. And once again, the two were left in silence. The cicadas became noisier than ever. Various insects buzzed around, landing on trees and on flowers, chirping and dancing in the sun. An owl hoots in the sky, but otherwise flies silently to high window in a castle, a letter clamped in its talons. Hermione catches Harry watching the owl, his eyes fixed on the winged creature, following its every move with great interest. And once again, his frown returns.

"Hagrid." Harry rigidly stood up, earning a questioning glance from Hermione.

"Hagrid," he repeated.

"Hagrid?"

"Hagrid."

"What."

"Hagrid."

"Harry, what's gotten into you?"

"Hagrid's the only one who sends me letters."

"...And..?"

"We need to see him now."

"Why?"

"Voldemort."

"What?"

"The Stone."

Hermione gave him a look.

"No, like, I mean, Fluffy, and Hagrid, Hagrid kno...ugh you know what, just come with me." He dusted off his pants. "We need to go see him. I need to talk to him about something. Confirm some thoughts, that's all."

"And what about Ron?" Hermione gestured to the sleeping boy on the ground.

Harry, who had already began walking, turned back and raised an eyebrow. "Leave him."

Hermione burst out laughing, earning herself a confused look. She shook her head and jogged to catch up with Harry, leaving the small snoring boy on the grass behind her.

Hagrid had gave them a joyous, warm greeting and invited the two into his hut, offering them some rock cakes and mysterious murky green liquid he called tea, which the children promptly and politely declined. They all squeezed into the small space of the house, getting themselves all nice and comfortable in the chairs, while Hagrid took a seat in front of them, taking a sip from his cup of tea, and smiled at them expectantly. "So what brings you two 'ere today? Done with exams?"

"Oh, uh, yes." Harry nodded, and cut right to the chase. "We were just wondering about what happened during the night you got Norbert?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Harry went on. "I, er, just wanted to know who gave him to you, you know, out of pure curiosity, and definitely nothing else, yes."

"Oh, well," Hagrid squinted and stroked his beard, staring of into the distance for a second, before mumbling, "Hmm, well, I couldn't...yeah, yeah, he was wearing a hood, right, so I can't see his face, kept buyin' me drinks, we talked a bit, and he almost - _almost_ \- made me lose, mighty skills he had, yes, but, I won, barely..."

Harry sat up just a little straighter. "And...what did you talk about, exactly? Did you talk about Hogwarts?"

"Mm, yes, we did...I think..." Hagrid seemed to have a hard time remembering. "Well, yes, and he seemed really interested in Fluffy, kept askin' about 'er, I told 'im that the only way to put 'er to sleep was to play 'er some good music, and-"

Harry went pale.

Hagrid's eyes widened and he seemed to have collected himself in time. "Ack! I shouldn't have told yer that- hey, where are ye goin'?"

Harry rigidly stood up from his seat, and Hermione could see his hands trembling. He smiled at Hagrid, a terrible, shaky, forced smile, and quickly murmured a 'thanks, see you soon,' and off he went. Hermione bid the confused gamekeeper an apologetic goodbye, before hurrying to catch up with Harry, who was already halfway across the field.

...

"No, Denmark, I don't remember, for the last time, stop asking me!" Prussia, who had been shaken to the core, finally yelled, his voice hoarse. He curled up and put his face in his hand, while Denmark held up his hands and took a step backwards, frowning with concern.

"Come on, Prussia, think!" Iceland, terribly irritated, was at his last straw. "You said you heard that he was planning to do it _tonight_ , right? We don't have that much time! Just think, think real hard, what did he _say_ he was going to do?!"

"I don't know, they never mentioned it when they were talking!"

"Who is 'they'?!"

"I don't _know_!" The albino threw up his hands in exasperation. "Leave me alone, okay?!"

Finland, who had been sitting in the corner biting his nails for the past half an hour, stood up, banged his fists on the wall and screeched, "SHUT UP! IF YOU KEEP YELLING AT HIM LIKE THAT, THERE'S NO WAY HE'S GOING TO CALM DOWN ENOUGH TO REMEMBER!"

The entire room went silent and Finland sat back down and crossed his arms with a huff. He turned to Sweden and mumbled, "Too much?"

"Too much."

"Sorry."

"Just...give me some time, okay?" Prussia, just as frustrated as everyone else, shook his head and heaved himself up from his seat. "I need a drink," was all he said before he turned the doorknob and left Norway's room, followed by a certain worried Dane who ran after him, expecting him to topple over again at any moment. Finland just sighed and leaned back against the wall, which now had multiple noticeable cracks on it. "Give him a break, Ice."

Iceland frowned and gave him a worried look, which only earned the boy another sigh. "Look, all we can do right now is wait." He massaged his temples. "After all, Voldemort isn't what we're here for in the first place. And we don't need to feel guilty if we don't interfere, after all - dealing with other nations' affairs isn't our jobs."

"It will be really nice to help though." Iceland slumped back into his chair. "Who knows, Voldemort might play a part in the nations' disappearances."

"No." Sweden murmured. "'mpossible. V'd'mort has no reason to m'ss w'th n'tions. H' pr'b'bly doesn't ev'n know we ex'st."

"Sweden's got a point though." Finland nodded. "The G8 are more than capable of handling themselves, after all. This is ENGLAND we're talking about. And Russia is a literal DEMON. Even the other nations could handle themselves without knowing any magic." Finland's mind wandered to an image of America pelting the Dark Lord with hamburgers, and he can't help but giggle, despite the situation.

...

"He has everything he needs to know now!" Harry was saying as they walked towards the area where Ron was napping. "He knows how to get past Fluffy, he knows how to get pass all that protection the other professors put up - remember, he scared Quirrel into telling him-"

"What are you talking about?" Ron groaned after being shaken awake by Hermione, annoyed that his afternoon snooze got interrupted.

"C'mon, Ron. We need to talk to the Headmaster now!"

"What? Why?"

"Because Bondevik's going get the Stone!" Harry shrieked, a little too loud, as he helped a panic-stricken Ron get up and ushered him to the castle. "He has everything he needs, and I have a feeling that he's going to try to do it tonight!"

When Harry, Hermione, and Ron entered the building, they spotted a head of white hair marching down the corridor, with a bundle of blond spikes trailing close behind. The trio waved, and Gilbert blinked, giving them a small wave back. Upon closer inspection, the albino's hair was messy and frazzled, and he had dark bags under his eyes, and a thin frown on his lips. Mathias didn't look that much better either - his cloak was so messily and hastily put on that it looked like it was about to slip off at any moment.

"Hullo," Ron chirped, patting Gilbert on the back, chuckling. "Lighten up! Exams are over, get some sleep tonight, eh?"

"Ah." Gilbert softly smiled and rubbed his exhausted eyes. "You're right, haha..." Just as he finished saying that, Mathias let out such a big yawn that he nearly fell backwards.

"Wow," Harry giggled. "How much have you two been sleeping You look worse that Hermione."

"Hey!" Hermione huffed and crossed his arms and the boys shared a laugh.

"Oh, right, by the way," Harry's eyes darted around. "Do you guys happen to know where the Headmaster's office is?"

"Nein."

"No, why?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared glances, and they begun explaining the whole situation, intentionally leaving out the part about Bondevik - they figured it wouldn't sit well with the two - and replaced the Professor's name with 'Voldemort' instead. Hermione kept cringing at 'Voldemort', and Gilbert goes noticeably paler with every word.

"Anyway, we have to tell Dumbledore, quick." Harry finished, scratching the back of his head. "Voldemort's planning to get to the Stone tonight, and we can't just sit still and let it happen."

It was at this moment when Gilbert, who has almost completely turned white, fainted.

* * *

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Denmark whispered as Harry and Ron slipped under the Invisibility Cloak, pulling Hermione in to see if she would fit. She did, and the trio completely disappeared, leaving almost no trace.

"What else can we do?" Harry's voice floated from seemingly out of nowhere, which greatly hurt Denmark's head. "Dumbledore's away, Professor McGonagall won't listen, and we can't track Snape down...so there's nothing we can do, really, than to just get there before him."

"But are you sure we can? We don't know any magic..."

"Of course we can!" Ron's voice chirped, followed by a sharp 'ow', the fluttering sound of cloth, and an irritated 'be quiet' from Hermione.

Denmark glanced at Prussia, who had said nothing the entire time. He was staring into the distance, seemingly at nothing, paying no attention to what was going on. He blinked when Denmark nudged him and gave him a small, nervous smile.

"Gilbert, ready to go kick some Snape ass?"

"It wasn't Snape."

"Well, whoever was, we're going." Harry sighed, and Denmark felt their weight shift towards the door. Quickly grabbing Prussia's small hand, Denmark followed after them as the Portrait Lady swung open, revealing the familiar friendly smile of Finland and Sweden's deathglare, which looked even scarier in the dark. Denmark had called Sweden along simply because he didn't feel like fighting a giant three-headed dog, and Finland had decided that he would like to pet the dog, so he tagged along. ("Only to see the dog," Sweden had said when he asked. "And no further. I have no business there. Everything happening in England has nothing to do with me." To which Denmark only sighed and nodded, rather uneasy that no-one else seemed to remember that Voldemort could still affect the Muggle world too.)

"Wait-" Prussia suddenly said before they closed the Portrait. He lifted a finger up to his head, and Gilbert hopped out from the mess of his hair. He gently placed the little bird on the floor of the common room. "You wait here," he whispered, before pulling the Portrait shut. Denmark snickered, and signaled for the others to start moving.

The corridor was illuminated by nothing but moonlight, and each step felt a little too loud, no matter how quiet they had tried to be. It was starting to feel chilly, even if there wasn't any wind, and already Denmark was regretting not staying in bed under the covers. Finland and Sweden didn't seem to be fazed by the cold - of course, why would they - and the two simply casually walked nimbly along, without any sign of fear of being caught at all - the nations, of course, didn't have Invisibility Cloaks like Harry did, and they figured they would be able to sense anyone coming and get away quiet easily. Plus, if they did get caught, they reasoned, Harry would still get a chance to get away. It wasn't really a big deal to Denmark anyway. This was England's problem, not his.

They didn't go very far before running into a a certain troublesome ghost on the third floor, loosening the carpet so people would trip. Peeves suddenly stopped what he was doing and whipped around, immediately spotting Denmark, who was staring at him. Immediately his lips curled into a twisted smile and he rubbed his hands together, floating a little closer to the blond, who took a step backwards.

"Ooh, wittle student beasties out of bed again?" He giggled, almost uncontrollably. "Looking for trouble, eh? And oh, I know you're there too," The ghost turned to the direction of Harry and Hermione and Ron under the Invisibility Cloak, and Denmark heard their breaths hitch. "Don't think I don't know where you are just because I can't see you - now are you a ghostie or a ghoulie or another student beastie?" Peeves's malicious grin widened, and he hovered up in the air, taking a deep, deep breath, as the students stared at him, horrified, knowing exactly what he was going to do.

"FILCH-"

"Shut up, Peeves."

Peeves cut himself off and clamped his mouth shut, and surprised eyes turned to Prussia, who emerged from the darkness behind Denmark. Peeves's expression turned from sinister to delightful, and he floated down towards them again.

"Bird Boy! I haven't seen you in a while!" He cheerfully greeted, only to earn a glare from the albino in return.

"Fuck off."

Peeves covered his mouth mockingly. "Oh! I'm so scared! What is Bird Boy going to do to me, yell at me to death?" He let out a fit of shrill laughs and spun around in the air, and Denmark could just barely see, through the dark, Prussia's face increasingly getting redder and redder.

"Peeves," Prussia's voice was calm, but cold and dangerous. "This is the last time you're going to make me late for a meeting with the Bloody Baron."

Peeves stopped laughing and stopped mid-air, giving Prussia a long, wide-eyed stare.

"Peeves." Prussia's voice was soft this time, his narrow red eyes glinting in the dark. "You _do_ remember what happened last time when the Baron found out what you did to me, do you?" The icy glare was enough to send shivers down Denmark's spine. "I have business around here, Peeves. Don't let me catch you again."

The ghost gulped, turning paler than he already was, his entire smoky figure beginning to shiver. He shook his head, and gave Prussia one last terrified look, before disappearing with a poof.

"Gilbert, how the _hell_ did you do _that_?"

"Come on, let's go." And with that, Prussia hustled past Denmark, purposefully ignoring the question. The nations exchanged confused looks, but nevertheless began to scramble up to the albino as fast as their little legs could carry them.

They found the door to the third-floor slightly ajar. Hermione's hand appeared and floated in midair to push the door open. "So Snape's already gotten here."

They heard the familiar low grumble of the three-headed dog's growl on the other side of the door, and they opened it to see three pairs of glittering eyes move to look down at them, bright and narrowed. The growls grew louder, and the children could feel the ground under them shake as the dog crept closer, painfully slow, eyeing them with a look of curiosity and hostility. The growls grew louder, and its mouth curled into an ugly snarl, showing yellowed teeth and drool dripped down and fell to the ground with a large splat. Denmark gulped, and his hand subconsciously shot to grab Sweden's, clinging on tight. The dog came closer still, and they could feel its hot breath on their faces as the dog roughly panted, glaring at them with a look so intense Denmark thought he was going to stop breathing.

"Puppy!"

The dog dropped it hostile gaze and instead gave the students a surprised, almost confused blink when Finland launched himself forward right next to the dog's foot. The dog, now completely stopped growling, bent down, and each of the three heads had one big whiff of Finland.

"Good dog!" Finland laughed and gave each head a small pat. Immediately the dog gave Finland an excited bark and soon enough the small boy was covered in dog saliva as the dogs licked his face.

"Ew! Ah, calm down, puppy!" Finland couldn't help but laugh as the dog began to tackle him on to the ground, begging him to play.

"Come on, let's go," Denmark whispered to the others as Finland began running around the corridor for the dog to chase him, whistling and waving his arms, and giving the head that catches him a scratch behind the ear. Without another word, the Gryffindors edged to the trapdoor , jumping around to avoid getting trampled to death. Without thinking, Denmark yanked the handle and tore the trapdoor clean off and jumped in - not realizing that the fall was much longer than he anticipated until it was too late and he was already descending into the deep, dark abyss.

He landed on something soft, and his hands blindly felt around the floor in the dark - leaves, perhaps some sort of plant. He squinted and looked up - the hole he had fallen from was too dark and too deep to even see to the top.

Not a moment later a heavy weight hit him right on the chest with enough force to knock the breath out of his lungs. He gasped for breath, unable to scream, and his eyes popped open, only to see everything around him blurry and spinning.

"Oof. Sorry." Prussia muttered, sounding a bit dazed himself, and the heavy weight left Denmark's chest. Denmark panted between fits of coughs, his head still spinning, and not a second after he felt something touch his clammy hands. He was roughly pulled up and he staggered to catch his balance, only to fall right on Prussia.

"Jeez," Prussia huffed, roughly dragging him aside, away from the plant. "You're heavy."

"You're...one...to...talk..." Denmark groaned, softly elbowing Prussia in the ribs. The albino grunted and gently lowered Denmark to the floor, where he lay and took deep breaths to get rid of the shock of being a human pole-vaulting landing mat.

"It's okay, you can come down, one by one, be careful," He heard the pale blurry figure of Prussia call. One by one Denmark watched the kids drop and roll to the side, as instructed by Prussia, who wasn't even acknowledging the fact that he was dying on the floor. Gee, thanks, Prussia.

"Where's Sve?" Denmark croaked, managing to lift himself up just enough to sit, as everyone else were dusting off their cloaks.

"He said he'd better keep watch just in case someone decides to come." Harry explained as his eyes scanned the area. "Also to keep watch on Tino and, like, make sure he's safe and stuff."

"Pfft," with much effort and a long groan, Denmark lifted himself from the floor, this time staggering a lot less. He caught on to Prussia's arm and steadied himself, coughing a little. "Safe? If anything, Fin's the one who's going to accidentally kill someone."

"Hey, is it just me or is no-one else at all concerned about the plant that is wrapping itself around our legs?"

Ron let out a high-pitched scream when he realized half his entire body was already tightly wrapped in plant.

"Welp," Prussia shrugged as the plant begins to eat his entire body. "Guess I'll die."

"Devil's snare!" Hermione shouted, wriggling and struggling. "It likes the dark and damp - can't stand fire or bright lights - but we don't have any wood, or anything to burn-"

"HERMIONE!" Ron yelled, continuously struggling form the plan'ts grasp, but to no avail. "HAVE YOU GONE MAD? ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

"Oh - OH!" Hermione began fumbling around for her wand - but it was too late, for the devil's snare had tightly wrapped around it.

"Quick! Mathias!"

"Huh? HUH?" Denmark searched his cloak for his wand, pulling it out with trembling fingers "Wha- what am I supposed to do?"

Hermione shouted the spell, and in a second Mathias had waved his wand and sent a jet of bluebell flames at the plant, narrowly missing Ron, who shrieked and immediately scrambled off when the plant finally loosened its grip on him. The flames let out a seires of hisses and spits and the plant, now wriggling and flailing, finally shrunk back into the corner long enough for Hermione and Harry to quickly scamper away, eyes wide and mouths open. After wriggling loose from the plant, Prussia casually strode over to the rest of the group, seemingly unaffected. Ron collapsed on the hard floor, panting slightly, sweat dripping down the corners of his face as Harry and Hermione finally got to a safe distance away from the plant. They breathed in silence for a minute, and after everyone had recovered from shock, they decided to continue moving through the dark.

"Seriously, Hermione," Harry muttered when the plant was away from sight. "There's no wood. Honestly."

"Shut up." Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron snickered.

"Well, lucky Harry didn't lose his head, otherwise we'd all have died here." Denmark chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

" _Or_ we wouldn't die, but be stuck here, for all time and eternity until our minds eventually decay and we fall into a dark, lonely pit of nothingness, not being able to lose consciousness and having to continue living in this cold, unforgiving world."

The group eyed Prussia curiously. Denmark gave him a whack on the head.

"Do you here that?" Denmark said loudly before the kids could have a chance to have an existential crisis. "Sounds like fluttering!"

"Sounds like wings." Prussia noted, before pausing. "Doves, pigeons, passerine, parrot, humming bird, blackbirds, swifts...ooh, is that a falcon?" Prussia perks up and cranes his neck in the direction of the sounds.

"Dude, that is like, seriously weird."

"Shut up Den you're able to tell who people are just by hearing their _footsteps_."

Denmark shrugs. "Touche."

"Up ahead, there's a light." Hermione commented, and the group quickly hurried towards the brightness. They finally reached a large, brilliantly lit chamber, with a ceiling higher than Prussia's self esteem. All around them, countless shining birds soared in the air overhead, glittering in the light. Across the room on the opposite wall was a huge, wooden door, with an equally large silver lock right under the doorknob. Prussia made a face.

"Ugh, boring, they're not even real birds." He muttered as they made their way inside, their eyes wide as they stared at the sheer brilliance of the room. Denmark squinted, and upon further inspection, Prussia was right - they weren't birds at all, but a large variety of strange winged...keys?

'Winged keys?" Denmark blinked. "What in the fresh titty is this?"

"They must be to open...this-" They reached the door, and Harry tried the doorknob - it was locked, and wouldn't open, even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm on it.

"I guess we've no choice but to find the key that opens the door." Harry muttered, turning away from the door to eye the hundreds of fluttering wings.

"But there's like a gazillion of them!" Ron protested. "It'll take forever!" The group argued over what to do as Prussia stood off silently by the side. Denmark strayed away from the conversation and began eyeing the door, feeling the wood.

"Hey, Mathias, just in case you didn't know, um, you're supposed to open the door using a knob?" Ron raised an eyebrow when he noticed Denmark pushing the door.

"No, guys, wait-" Denmark tried to push it again. It won't budge, but he thought he felt something.

"Prus- Gilbert, come here-" The blond motioned for Prussia to come over. "Do ya think we could knock this down?"

Harry, Hermione, and Ron watched curiously as Prussia got closer and touched the door, knocking and pushing it a few times.

"Maybe." He said at last, though he didn't sound that convinced himself. "We might be able to if we punched it a few hundred times." Prussia looked down at his eye hands, and Denmark realized that, in their small forms, they won't be able to knock it down like they would be able to if they were their normal sizes.

"Are you crazy?" Hermione hissed, seizing a broomstick that was on the floor, next to a bunch more that leaned against the wall. It was the boys' turn to give her a confused stare.

"Duh! We'll wake up the whole school! Let's just fly in and try to grab a key!" She rolled her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

"But there are hundreds of them!"

"We'll find it!" She turned to Harry. "Right, Harry?"

"Uh-" Harry blinked, dumbfounded for a split second, before nodding. "Yes, right, it won't be too hard-"

"It's that one." Prussia pointed at the large flock of keys.

"Wow, thanks, Gilbert, that really narrows it down."

"No, _that_ one." Prussia's finger followed whatever he was pointing at as it fluttered all around the room. Denmark followed the albino's finger, eyes narrowed, before Harry gave a yell.

"Oh! I see it!" He pointed at it too. "The one with the blue wings - that big old-fashioned one with the silver that matches the lock - the feathers are crumpled to one side-"

"Oh!" Of course! And the wings must have been messed up because it was violently jammed into a keyhole. Mathias let out a short celebratory whoop, before picking a broom and climbing unsteadily onto it. "I see it - come on, let's go-"

Ron quickly grabbed himself a broom too, and Hermione took off with hers, while Prussia stood off to the side, with no broom.

"Well!" The albino called out to them as they flung themselves into their air madly, all speeding towards the same key. "Guess I'll be here! Alone! Flying is unawesome anyway!" And with that, he crossed his arms and plopped himself on the ground with a huff, right as the moment as Denmark went crashing into the ceiling and almost flung himself out from his broom.

Harry hasn't taken his eyes away from the key. "Surround it! Don't let it escape from your sight-" He pointed to various spots in the air, "Hermione, you go in from that direction, Ron, you trap it here, Mathias, you go there, under it, yeah, right there-" The children followed Harry's command, and soon they were closing in on the key at a terrifying speed, and Denmark began gripping his broomstick tighter in his sweaty hands as he sped closer and closer to the key, when-

There was a loud crash and a scream - Ron and Hermione had smashed into each other and flew completely off their brooms, and the little key was sent spinning through the air, away from them. Harry, without hesitating, dove in for the key, speeding faster and faster, his eyes narrowed in deep concentration, his hand outstretched-

A nasty crunching noise filled the room when the key was violently shoved up against the wall.

Denmark ripped his eyes away from Harry and maneuvered his broom to fly in the direction of Ron, who was now plummeting to the ground at an incredible speed. The blond gripped his broom even tighter, leaning in closer to the stick as he plunged down right after Ron, his heart pounding and his face dripping with sweat as he clenched his teeth, when finally his clammy fingers touched the familiar feeling of skin, and he grasped on to Ron's hand as tightly as he could. He then yanked, with great effort, simultaneously pulling the nose of his broom up - and he was soaring into the sky again, Ron's sweaty hand clamped tightly on his own, the redhead narrowly missing the hard ground underneath.

He was airborne for a few seconds to slow down his speed, before finally descending down to everyone else bellow. Prussia had Hermione in his arms, and although she was panting and her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets, and she clung tightly to Prussia's cloak until her knuckles turned white, she was safe. Beside them was Harry, who also had sweat dripping down his face and was breathing heavily, grinning and triumphantly holding the winged key up in his hand. Denmark dropped Ron safely on the ground, and in a second the boy had collapsed on the floor, his knees shaking. Denmark lightly landed and threw the broom aside, rubbing his wet hands on his cloak, noticing that he was still shaking.

"Th-thanks-" Ron managed to hoarsely whisper after taking in a series of deep breaths. "Bloody hell...that was...close..."

"Yeah..." Hermione, finally able to stand up without Prussia's help, stood up on shaky legs, her hair frazzled and her body shivering as she massaged her temples. "I thought I was done for."

"Maybe speeding in towards the same direction wasn't a good idea after all," Harry admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah - uh - but it's - quite alright..." Ron shook his head and slapped both his his cheeks, finally recovering from the shock. "Just open the door and get on with it."

There was a loud clicking sound when Harry turned the key - and almost immediately the key darted off again, wobbling unsteadily since it had become very battered after being caught twice. Prussia waved good-bye to the key while simultaneously being dragged to the next room.

It was too dark when they stepped into the next chamber, but the moment all of them got through the door, it slammed shut, and suddenly lights flooded into the room instantly. It revealed a vast, dimly lit square space with black and white stone on the floor, and on them were large chess pieces that loomed over their heads, their blank faces staring down at the Gryffindors, the room eerily silent. Hermione shivered, and Denmark turned his head to look around the room, his eyes wide in awe. They were at the edge of the chessboard, on the black side, and across the room were white pieces, standing still and unmoving. Behind the white pieces was another door.

"What do we have to do?" Hermione squeaked, eyeing the chess pieces with an uncomfortable frown.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron stepped onto the chessboard and touched the large stone figure of a knight. Immediately, the knight sprung to life, and, astonishingly, began to shudder and move.

"We have to play chess." Ron gazed up at the knight. "We have to join you in this game to get across?"

The knight wordlessly nodded, and gestured to the other children.

"I think you guys need to take the places of some of the pieces." Ron stopped and went silent for a moment, deep in thought.

"Well, I mean, don't be offended or anything, but you guys aren't good at chess-"

"Hey! I'll let you know I've beaten Norge a million-"

"Shut up, Mathias" Hermione deadpanned, then, quickly, to Ron, "It's okay, we're not offended or anything, just tell us what to do."

Mathias pouted, and Ron nodded. "Alright, Harry, you be that bishop over there, and Hermione, you be Queen, Mathias, you can be that knight-"

"But I wanna be Queen!" Prussia protested.

Ron paused and eyed the albino. "Alright, Gilbert be Queen, Hermione, take the Rook."

As if they had heard them, all the respective chess pieces shifted in their positions and slowly began to step away from the board, ignoring the gapes of Denmark and Prussia. The Nations gave each other a quick nervous glance before hesitantly creeping onto the chessboard and gulping as they examined the white side. Ron readily took his position, not hint of uncertainty or fear in his eyes. Hermione and Harry timidly scuttled to their places, and the second everyone was in the white spot, they heard a dull, scraping noise as a white piece on the other side of the room suddenly sprang forward.

Ron started to instruct to the chess pieces to move, and every time the White side made a move, Denmark felt his heart skip a beat. He know that them losing wouldn't have much of a consequence to the Nations - after all, even if they weren't able to defeat Voldemort, it wouldn't affect them, only England. But, something in the back of his mind told him that Voldemort wanted more than to just conquer England and maybe Scotland, or even perhaps just the entire magic world, but he'd move on to destroy the 'Muggles' too; he knew that the stakes were high for everyone, not just England and Scotland.

His thoughts were cut off short when something that felt like a heavy brick wall slammed into him. Hard.

He heard muffled cries of his friends as he slumped to the ground, a numbing pain coursing through his entire body as he felt something hard and solid seize his leg and began dragging him away. The rough ground scraped his skin and a sudden dizziness engulfed him, making him too lightheaded to scream or even open his eyes properly. And suddenly, he was violently flung into the air, and for a moment time seemed to slow down as he flew up in the air, before realizing that he was plummeting to the ground. Fast.

His head connected with a wall.

Everything went black.

...

...

...

The children stared at the limp, unmoving body of Denmark on the floor, bent in a not-so-comfortable-looking position. Prussia's body stiffened as he felt all organs in his body stop working, for just a moment, as his wide red eyes gawked at the Nation.

"...Sorry..." Ron finally whispered. "I...had to do it, it was the only way Hermione could be free to take that bishop..."

Prussia shook his head and took a deep breath, finally able to move, now shivering madly. His legs felt like giving up, but he swallowed and forced himself to stand up straighter, puffing out his chest. It was fine. Denmark would be fine. He was a Nation, after all, and it wouldn't take long to heal. It was fine. Everything was going to be alright.

All of his confidence melted away when he realized that that could be him.

The game went on quite slower than before, with Ron now being more careful not to let any other human get taken. It seemed that everyone was now shaken and nervous, because both Harry and Hermione had jumped every time a white piece moved, and Ron was frowning throughout the entire game, his eyebrows furrowed as he stopped at every move to think. It was only a little bit later when a White piece landed on one of the black pawns with a sickening crunch, and the now fallen piece was dragged off the board. Soon, they had a large pile of black pieces all laying on the side, lifeless - right next to the small motionless figure of Denmark, who, Prussia noticed, was thankfully steadily healing.

Twice, Ron noticed just in time when his friends were in danger, and cut himself halfway between his instructions to yell at other black pieces to swoop in and save them. Prussia felt his heart pound every time the white pieces got close, and every time one of the black pieces managed to knock down a white and drag it from the board. He knew that feeling scared of _chess_ , of all things, was stupid and completely pointless, but a small voice in his head kept reminding him that getting hurt _sucked_ , nation or not.

"Gilbert!" Ron yelled, breaking him out of his thought. "Take that square, quick!"

Nodding, Prussia scuttled to the square, not quite sure of what he was doing anymore. He didn't understand why he was so...stupidly _scared_ , and it deeply bothered him. Every move he made he felt his hesrt leap for no reason, and eventually he found that he was quiveriving. The whole thing was stupid, and Prussia hated it.

"We're almost there!" Ron said suddenly after some time. "Come on, let me think, let me think-"

The Gryffindor's face lit up for a moment, before suddenly turning grim again. He gave the chessboard one last glance, before turning to Harry, Hermione, and Prussia.

"I've got to be taken."

"No!"

"We have to!" Ron snapped, and Prussia flinched. "I move there and she takes me, then you're free to checkmate the king!"

"But Ron-"

"That's chess!" He yelled. "We have to make sacrifices! Now do you want to get to Voldemort or what?!"

The group was silent. There was nothing to say.

Ron took a deep breath and stepped forward to the square.

And suddenly, he was attacked by the Queen, who had smashed into him headfirst. He crashed onto the ground with a dull thud, out cold, and the White chess piece harshly dragged him across the floor to the side of the board. It seemed that the piece had been considerably softer on Ron than they were on the other pieces. Ron was shoved down right next to Mathias, who had stirred and winced a bit, but otherwise didn't open his eyes.

Gulping, Harry went a few paces to the left, checkmating the King. The White King promptly took his crown off and threw it on the floor, by Harry's feet, and the game was over. All the remaining pieces on the board parted ways for the group, leaving their path to the door clear, and Harry, Hermoine, and Prussia darted across the board to the door. With one last worried glance at Ron and Denmark, who looked considerably less pale and battered up as he had first been when he was brutally thrown off the board, they hurriedly scurried through the door and into the next passageway.

Prussia had smelled it even before the door opened. They reached another wooden door, after Harry and Hermione recounted all the charms they had seen - Sprout's being the Devil's Snare, Flitwick's were the flying keys (which were very misleading, by the way, Prussia had been excited to see the birds onto realize they were just stupid keys) and McGonagall's were the chess pieces that she had probably transfigured to come alive. "The only ones that are next are Quirrel's...and Snape's," Harry concluded, turning the knob of the door.

When they entered, the smell was even more prominent - and more disgusting. Prussia covered his mouth and nose to prevent himself from gagging as he stared at the large, dark, lumpy figure in front of him with narrowed eyes; his eyes were even starting to water. The troll was knocked out cold, with a nasty bloody bump on its head, emitting a smell that was awful enough that Prussia was sure he was literally going to die from it. They hurried over it, shutting their eyes and pinching their noses, quickly opening the next door and closing it once they were out of the room, glad that they didn't have to fight it. Harry and Hermione breathed sighs of relief when they were far enough not to smell it - though Prussia still had to hold his breath for just a little longer.

The next chamber was much less dramatic than Prussia had expected - and hoped for it to be. It was just some boring vials and bottle, all lined up on a table, undoubtedly stupid Snape's charm. There was a door right there, and Prussia rolled his eyes, stepping into the threshhold to go open it.

Only for fire to suddenly spring up, blocking the door behind them - and the door in front of them, trapping them in the room with the stupid bottles. The Gryffindors blinked and stared at each other for a moment, before Hermione went up to the table to inspect it, picking up a piece of paper.

"Look," She said to the boys, holding up the paper for them to read.

 _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind_

 _Two of us will help you, whichever you will find_

 _One among us seven will let you_

Prussia wasn't even halfway done with reading when Hermione pulled the paper back to look at it, a wide smile slowly forming on her face. The bushy-haired girl went maniac and scuttled up and down the line of vials and bottles excitedly, pointing at bottles and muttering things to herself so quickly it sounded it gibberish. Finally, she grabbed the smallest bottles right at the very end down the line of bottles, holding it up triumphantly.

"This one!"

"That one?" Harry blinked, staring at the pitifully small drops of liquid inside of the bottle.

"There's not enough for all of us."

"Hermione," Harry suddenly exclaimed, "Give me the bottle." Giving him a confused look, she handed it to him, which he promptly took. He straightened himself out and puffed out his chest. "Hermione, which bottle takes you back out?"

"Um, that one." Hermione pointed to a large purple bottle at the back.

"Okay," Harry grabbed the bottle from the table and pushed it into her hand, earning himself an even more confused look.

"Harry, you're not thinking-"

"Hermione, I have to," Harry insisted, his grip on his bottle tightening. "You go back, get Ron and Mathias, and use the brooms from the key room to get out and get Dumbledore-"

"But _Harry_ , you can't go in there alone!"

"Ahem." The two children stopped talking and blinked, suddenly remembering that Gilbert was there. They both turned to him, and he pointed to the bottle.

"He's not going alone, there's enough for the both of us."

Harry held up his bottle and stared at the drop of liquid.

Prussia tched, waving his hand, and sighed. "There's enough for two, trust me."

"Then let me go!" Hermione pleaded, taking a step closer to Harry.

"Um, excuse me, but I want to go." Again, their attention was adverted to the little albino in the room. Gilbert had one hand on his hip, looking bored, and jabbed a thumb at the black fire leading to the next room. "Look, Snape and You-Know-Who is there. It's not safe." He paused for a moment. "I'm sure as hell going to kick Voldemort's ass."

"Gilbert, no-"

"Gilbert _yes_ ," Gilbert growled, and for a moment his eyes dimmed and flashed with sudden hatred and animosity, and he clenched his fist, glaring straight at Hermione. "I'm going."

Hermione's face seemed to look a less lot bright, and both she and Hermione knew that they couldn't argue with Gilbert. Heaving a long sigh, Harry found himself letting out a small squeak and staring at Hermione with wide eyes when she pulled him in for one long, tight hug. When she pulled away, her eyes were glossy and her lips were wobbling as she patted his shoulder, gripping her bottle so tight that her knuckles turned white.

"Harry, you're a great wizard, you know."

Harry felt his face heat up and he grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head, a habit he had picked up from Mathias. "Well, not as good as you-"

"I mean, books and cleverness are one thing, but there are so many more important things, like bravery, and-"

"Can we skip the sappy stuff and get on with it?" Prussia whined from the other side of the room, sticking out his tongue at them. Hermione gave Harry one final smile.

"Be safe, Harry."

Harry blinked in surprise, and his gaze softened as he, too, forced a smile.

"You too."

Giving the two boys a final nod, Hermione opened the bottle with a pop, and took a sip, before immediately running through the purple flames that led to the chambers behind them.

"Oh, Gilbert-" A realization dawned on Harry, and he turned to face the albino, who was picking his ear. "What was your master plan of sharing this one drop?'

"Uh, duh," Gilbert rudely snatched the bottle form Harry's hand and dipped a finger inside the liquid, leaving just enough for Harry to drink.

"That's disgusting."

Prussia simply gave Harry his megawatt grin and the infamous 'kesesese', before licking the liquid from his finger and turning his back on Harry, disappearing into the black flames.

* * *

 **A/N: Wowee, long chapter, but I don't know how I could cut it up without making it boooring.**

 **This is the sixth rewrite of this chapter so Y'ALL BETTER APPRECIATE IT.**

 **Oh jeez, I didn't realize it'd been a LONG time since I updated until, like, a month ago. I'm getting really busy and wrapped up with my other school work, because ninth grade sucks, and I'm slowly dying because I take a long time to do homework and have about three hours of sleep a day and have like next to no time to actually focus on writing and my art stuff. Furthermore, I've spent many months preparing for the big exams at the end of this year as well as joining the stupid Girls Scouts (Which is basically mandatory if you wanted to be considered a decent human being, because the schooling system here is weird and I won't be recognized as a good student even if I got good grades if I didn't join the Girl Scouts.)**

 **Anyway, there's just a lot of stuff going on with my life. And I know you guys are tired of hearing my excuses, but I really can't help it, and hey, at least I haven't abandoned this story. Yet.**

 **On a brighter note, I've been reading all the reviews I've gotten the past million years that I was gone, and even though I wasn't able to reply to them all (Partly because some were guests, partly because I keep telling myself to reply later and then forget whether or not I've replied and then have to go through the anxiety of wondering if I would look stupid if I replied again, so I just don't reply at all) but just so you guys know, I really do appreciate all of them, and they've motivated me to continue with the story this far. Thanks, y'all.**

 **Also also, I'm planning another fanfiction of Hetalia, most probably a pirate AU, so just lemme know if you guys are interested, and I'll start on it as soon as I finish this one.**


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